Make a Pretty Memory
by smc-27
Summary: She's the one who left. Everything changed, and she wasn't there to see it. Now she's home, and realizing that for everything that changed, there's a lot that stayed the same. They're both angry, and they're the only two who understand it. Still. Leyton
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This started out as a oneshot, but quickly - far too quickly - became way too long for that. So I broke it up into chapters. I have no idea where it's really going, or how it'll end, but it'll probably only be 5 or so chapters. I hope you like it. I'm really enjoying writing this one.

All you need to know is that Lucas and Brooke never broke up, therefore Lucas and Peyton never got together. Everything else should be explained along the way.

**----**

She's wondering where it all went so wrong. Everything changed, and it was good for a while, but it's all wrong now, and she doesn't know how to fix it, or if she even can.

She probably can't.

L.A. seems cold, though it's August and it's too hot at the best of times. It feels cold in the sense that it doesn't comfort her. She is small and insignificant, and if she just picked up and left, no one would miss her. She's sure of it. She could pack her life into boxes and get on the highway and never look back, and no one would come after her or call and ask where she went.

She used to love that. The complete anonymity of being somewhere that felt so huge. It used to be a reminder that there's a great big world out there and she'd only just begun to live in it.

But now that great big world is telling her that she's not really seeing anything and she's not really living at all.

She needs to get out. Out of the city, and out of the life she's been stuck in for four years, and out of feeling like everything she's done since she left home has been a mistake.

She left home in a hurry, and it seemed like the best idea at the time. Isn't that always the way it goes? It didn't take her long to realize that she shouldn't have left at all. But she was there, and she was on her own, and she was going to make the best of it.

So she got a job she thought she'd love, and a small apartment above a tiny bakery, and she lives the L.A. life like so many people her age are doing. She goes to work after late nights and brings coffee to people who had had even later nights, and she makes her money and she goes home.

She has friends, of course, but they aren't real friends. She misses having _real_ friends. People who would go to bat for you and stand up for you every single time. But she left all those at home, too, and even some of those are gone. She isn't sure she can call them friends anymore.

Getting fired from her job wasn't ever the plan, but when she hears that arrogant jackass talking to his assistant like she was trash, something inside her snaps. She finds herself hurling mostly-true insults at one of her label's senior VPs, and that is all it takes to find herself packing up her minimal personal belongings into a bankers' box.

So she's sitting in her apartment on her sofa, crying not over the job she lost, but over the shockingly harsh realization that she doesn't know who she is anymore. She wants to know, but she's as much a mystery to herself as she is to everyone else.

And that's pretty damn terrifying.

She really wishes she had a best friend to call. That somewhere in the world, she has someone who cares about her enough to answer the phone and listen to her cry and ramble on about things that probably don't make sense to anyone.

But there's no one.

She's alone in the most literal sense of the word, and she's not sure her heart has ever been broken more than it is upon coming to that realization.

So she grabs her keys, and she doesn't care what time it is, or that her favourite record store is clear across the city. That's where she's going. Music is the only friend she really has, and she needs it now more than ever.

She spends an hour sifting through vintage vinyl and making idle conversation with the overly eager college student who sits behind the counter. She knows he's hitting on her - he does it every time - but she can't find it in her to care. Maybe in another lifetime, she'd take him up on his offer, but his hair is the same shade of blonde as a boy she used to know once upon a time, and she just can't bring herself to go to coffee with this one.

Some arrogant suit in an SUV starts yelling at her at a red light for a perfectly legal lane change she just made, and before she knows it's even happening, she's crying. She's sitting there in her car with a formerly angry man who's suddenly turned worried staring at her through their two rolled down windows. The light turns green, but she's too wrapped up in breaking down that she isn't paying attention. A horn sounds behind her, and she finally moves.

Somewhere in the six blocks between that stop light and her apartment, she decides to _move_. She _will_ just up and leave.

She talks to her landlord, a sweet old man who's always been good to her, and he says he's sorry to lose her, but he understands. She calls her dad, and he doesn't quite know what the rush is, but he knows his daughter, so he doesn't press for information. And truthfully, he's just glad she's coming home.

She sells her car, packs her life into boxes and sends them to the address of the house she grew up in, and two days later, she's home for the first time in years.

Everything's the same.

Except that it's all different.

And she's not sure if it's her or the little town that's really making her feel that way.

She walks down the main street with a jacket and a hat on, hiding herself from anyone who might recognize her. She realizes that the anonymity she had in L.A. was killing her, but she craves it in Tree Hill. She's not ready to be seen yet. She knows there'll be questions and she just really doesn't have answers.

She walks past Karen's Café, and she sees the woman pouring coffee and smiling, and part of her really wants to just run through the door and get one of those motherly hugs. She can't do it, though, and she's not sure if that's selfish or selfless.

There's a young woman, maybe only a year or two older than herself, and she drops her coffee when she looses her footing and she lands on her behind on the sidewalk. Peyton's about to walk to her and make sure she's OK, when a middle-aged man stops his car in the middle of the street and rushes out to help the woman up.

It's such a simple and compassionate act that it knocks the wind out of her. L.A. didn't have that. Compassion, when it even existed, wasn't that honest. She has to sit herself down on the one of the benches lining the street and take a moment just to think about things. It's all she's been doing for weeks, really.

If she hadn't been convinced of it before, she knows that this - moving home - was the best decision she's ever made.

She considers walking past the River Court, but it's just too risky. She doesn't know who'll be there, if anyone, but she doesn't want to find out.

So she walks home, taking her time and strolling through the neighbourhoods she used to know so well, steering clear of one in particular. Somewhere along the way, she sees a familiar face. It's one that she isn't ready to see, but of all the people who could recognize her, this is the one who just might understand. He's always known her just a little bit better than anyone else could tell, and she kind of loves that.

He's driving a big, expensive silver SUV, and he doesn't stop, but he sends her a genuine smile and a small wave, and she does the same thing in return. She's missed Nathan. She's missed the boy she grew up with, who always protected her from everything but himself.

She knows that seeing him means that everyone will know she's around, but she knows they'll find out soon enough anyway. She can't avoid reality forever.

She knows that eventually, she'll have to see _him_. The man who she once convinced herself would give her everything.

She'd be lying if she didn't still feel that way sometimes.

But she hasn't spoken to him since she left, and she knows he'll be hurt. So much has happened - too much, maybe - and she doesn't want to be hurt by finding out that he doesn't want to talk to her.

She really didn't think this through.

She didn't think that maybe the people she thought she was coming back to, aren't really the same people she left.

----

It's three days later when she finally ventures out of the house again. She's been holed up with the doors locked and the lights off most of the time, just sitting, breathing in the silence of the small town that she's missed for so many years. Her father's away, and all she has is music to keep her company. It's easy to pretend that she's 16 again and act like her problems are big and the world is small and she's going to conquer everything.

But she knows she needs to stop pretending.

She finds herself, not surprisingly, at the beach. She's just listening to the rhythmic pulse of the water, sitting just far enough away that it won't nip at her toes.

She doesn't know how long she's there before she hears her name in that gravelly tone that makes her close her eyes.

Turns out, it's easy to pretend she's 16 again when that boy says her name, too.

He sits down next to her, and she offers a weak smile. She doesn't hug him, and he doesn't hug her, and neither knows if the other wanted it. And they sit. In silence.

For at least another hour.

"You didn't come to her funeral," he says out of nowhere.

It's no secret who he's talking about, and he doesn't need to say anything more. She wants to respond. Apologize for not being there and laying her former best friend to rest. But with the way she and Brooke left things, she wasn't sure - she still isn't sure - if Brooke would have wanted her there. It's easy to say she wouldn't have. It's easier because it lets her think that they couldn't have worked it out, and she needs to think they couldn't have worked it out.

But she can't say anything, because there's a lump in her throat that she can't swallow, and she really, really doesn't want to cry in front of this boy - now man - who she's convinced doesn't know the half of it.

"She was your best friend, and you didn't come," he adds when she doesn't say anything.

She can only shake her head. She has nothing to say in defense of her actions and she knows it.

"I needed you," he admits in a whisper for the first time. He's never said those words about her to anyone. "I know it had been a year, but I needed you."

She's never hated herself more. It doesn't take her long to realize that she still, somehow, has intense feelings for this man sitting next to her. And he needed her, and she wasn't there.

"I'm sorry."

It's half whispered, half sobbed, and he looks at her for the first time, really, and he knows immediately that she's not the same girl who left town four years ago. She's hurt and she's different, and he can't really pinpoint it, but there's something making her so sad that it's almost killing him to not be able to let himself hold her.

But what's really bothering him, is that he's not the same man he was, either. He changed almost immediately after that blonde girl left, and though no one said the words, they all knew that her departure had everything to do with the shift. He and Brooke were drifting apart, and if she hadn't died, he knew they would have broken up. He's well aware of how horrible a person that makes him. He knows they both knew their relationship had run its course, but he still hates himself for not giving her better memories. He kind of hates her a little for not giving him better memories, too.

He doesn't really hate her, of course, and though he knows they weren't meant to be, he still misses her.

He thinks if he explained all that to Peyton, she'd understand. Out of everyone, she'd understand. But he won't explain it because he's mad at her, too.

And that's what's changed most about him. He's just angry. He's nice when he needs to be, and he still loves his family and he'll do anything for his best friend and his brother and his nephew. There's just an underlying sense of anger about him that won't go away.

That it's dissipating now, as he sits next to this blonde girl, is absolutely terrifying.

"I know," he whispers.

He does know. She's sorry, and he can tell, and he's pretty sure it's damn near impossible for her to be sitting next to him after all this time and talking about the girl they both once loved. He doesn't know what's brought her home, or if she's OK, or why she looks so skinny and so...sad.

And he really doesn't know why he wants to know everything about her again.

Well, he does know why. And it scares the hell out of him.

"What brings you home?" he asks. He asks it sincerely, and he really just wants to hear her say that she's home for good. He's missed her.

"Home," she mutters, still afraid to really look at him.

"Yeah. What made you...?"

"No," she says, letting out a weak laugh. "Home brought me back."

He sighs and nods his head, and he looks back out over the water. All she wants to do is wrap her arms around him and detail every emotion and every event that's happened in the years she's been away. She doesn't want to feel so disconnected from him. She doesn't want to feel like he can't even stand to be near her. She feels like she doesn't know him any more, and she's sure that's all her own fault.

She knows it is.

She hates herself for that.

"I should go," he says, placing his hands on his thighs.

"OK," she says, nodding her head.

"I'll um...I'll see you around?" He forms it like a question; like he's looking for confirmation of the fact.

"Yeah," she says, offering a sad smile as he stands and brushes the sand from his jeans.

It's not the promise she wanted. It's a casual acknowledgment that they live in the same small town and they're bound to bump into each other.

She's never gotten the promise she wanted from him.

But she's always taken what she could get.

_----_

She lays low for a while.

She doesn't want to cause ripples through the town's gossip circles, and she doesn't want to give anyone a chance to ask her why she left.

She doesn't have an answer anyone would want to hear, so it's best to avoid the question.

Nathan shows up one afternoon, letting himself into the house and into her bedroom, just like he always used to do. She's laying on her bed in her sleep shorts and tank top, sleeping away the day, and he makes a crude comment about all the ways he used to wake her up.

She gets dressed and they spend the day in the backyard of her childhood home, sipping sweet tea and soaking up the sun. She apologizes for everything, and he insists she doesn't need to. And she believes him.

She and Haley had tried to keep in touch in the beginning, but it was just too difficult for Peyton to hear about all the goings on in the little town she hadn't wanted to admit she missed. They'd exchange the odd email on birthdays, or Haley would forward photos of baby James, but that was the most contact they had.

Nathan insists that he's taking care of everyone. Haley and Jamie and Lucas. He notices how her jaw clenches at the mention of his brother, but he doesn't say a word. He simply says that Lucas has changed, and they all thought it was just a phase, but it's been four years. She corrects him and says it's been three, but he looks at her pointedly and tells her it's been four.

He doesn't leave until he has her agreeing to go to his house for dinner that weekend, promising her the best burgers she'll every taste off his backyard grill. She tells him she wouldn't miss it, but it's not lost on either of them that she was adamantly saying no until he told her Lucas wouldn't be around.

She really wants to keep to herself and let everyone get used to her being around.

But she thinks it's really selfish of her to just assume anyone cares.

So the day after her afternoon with Nathan, she walks the streets of Tree Hill in search of the best coffee she can find. She knows exactly where to find it, but she's a little afraid to step foot in that café just yet. She figures, after five minutes leaning against the building and trying to steady her breathing, that Karen Roe might be the least terrifying person in the town.

But nowhere in those five minutes did she think to actually peer inside and make sure that Karen was there.

So when she walks in, she sees Lucas with a towel flung over his shoulder and a pot of coffee in his hand, refilling the cup of an older gentleman sitting at a table in the corner.

He says nothing. He just offers her a tense nod and he purses his lips, and she walks to the counter. She can't just leave now, so she'll take a deep breath, be thankful that she's wearing a cute summer dress and her hair is cooperating, and wait for him to come pour her a cup of coffee.

"Hi," he says, slipping in behind the counter and punching something into the register.

"Hi," she echoes softly.

"How are you?" he asks.

She gets the feeling he treats every customer like this.

It probably doesn't bother anyone else the way it bothers her.

"OK," she says as nonchalantly as possible. "Caffeine deprived."

"That your way of asking for a coffee?" he asks. His head is down, but she sees a hint of that dimple on his cheek, and it makes her smile.

She didn't realize how much she'd missed that dimple.

"If it's not too much trouble," she says, and he lets out a laugh.

"What kind of café would it be if it was trouble to pour someone a cup of coffee?" he asks sarcastically, simultaneously overturning a mug and reaching for the fresh pot.

"Good point," she says. She reaches for the sugar as he slides the mug in front of her. "Thanks."

He waves to the customer that leaves, and then it's just the two of them alone again.

"I was..."

"So..."

They speak at the same moment, and it's an awkward indicator of how far their relationship is from where it used to be.

"Go head," he says, but she shakes her head at him after taking a sip of her coffee.

"No. You go," she insists.

"I was just going to say, there are a bunch of dishes back there that aren't going to wash themselves," he says, faking a smile. "I should probably try to tackle them while there's no one here."

She resists the urge to let out the bitter laugh that's right at the back of her throat.

She's no one to him.

"Yeah. You...do whatever it is you have to do," she says, hoping he won't hear the sadness in her voice. If he does, he doesn't let on. He just nods at her and slips into the kitchen, leaving her there to nurse her coffee alone.

She sits for a few minutes, able to hear the water running over the soft music he has playing in the café. It's painful. He can't even talk to her. He can barely _look_ at her. She's sure that if she hadn't happened to step into the café that day, he wouldn't have sought her out or spoken to her at all.

So she abandons her cup of coffee, though she's hardly drank anything from it. She drops a $5 bill on the counter, and she does the one thing that - he thinks, as he hears the bells above the door chime - has always come naturally to her.

She leaves.

_----_

She and Haley start to rebuild their friendship, and it's all really easy. There's no blame laid, and Peyton tells the whole story about why she left immediately after graduation, and Haley just offers a smile and said she always knew that the only thing that would come between Peyton and Brooke was Lucas.

Peyton starts crying one day when they're talking about the brunette. It's nothing even remotely sad, Haley just says Brooke's name in passing and mentions something about a game the boys took them to, but it's enough to make Peyton break down. Haley comforts her as best she can, but she knows that there's only so much she can do.

So they drive to the cemetery together, and Haley says she'll wait in the car for as long as Peyton needs.

She has a few red gerbera daisies in her hand - they always were Brooke's favourite - and she makes her way to the stone she's never laid eyes on.

And she sits there in silence for a complete hour.

She can't find the words, and she doesn't feel like she deserves to say she's sorry, so she says nothing, and simply lays the red flowers against the stone, and toys with the grass in front of her.

She and Haley embrace in the car when they're parked in front of Peyton's house, and Haley drives away feeling like her heart is breaking for her old friend. No one should have that amount of heartbreak and confusion in their eyes.

It's late that night when she decides the empty house is suffocating her. She needs to get out, and she knows where she'll go. She pulls on a black sweatshirt and plugs in her iPod before pulling the hood up over her matted curls. And she starts walking.

She almost cries when she's crossing the street and a classic car comes to a halt mere feet from her knees. She looks up, tugs one of her earphones from her ear, and shakes her head at Lucas. There's a frightened, anxious look on his face, but there's a moment where their eyes lock and she knows they're both wondering what could have been.

But she keeps walking, and he drives away, and then the moment is gone.

She's sitting beneath the old bridge, listening to the Spice Girls on her iPod and dangling her feet over that ledge as she thinks of the best friend she never should have left. She can't blame herself - a pulmonary embolism isn't something that anyone has control over - but she can regret not being there and not being the kind of friend that Brooke deserved.

Her heart nearly beats out of her chest when she sees a male figure approaching.

And then she sees that it's Lucas, and she looks forward again as he sits down next to her. He lets out a resentful laugh and shakes his head, and she looks at him again.

"What?" she bites out, removing her earphones. He almost smiles at what she's listening to. Almost.

"Are you stupid?" he asks, and she raises her eyebrow incredulously. "You're out walking around in the middle of the night, not paying attention, and then sitting alone under creepy bridges."

"Whatever," she mumbles. "I'm fine."

It takes everything in her not to remind him of the time years ago when their roles were reversed and it was him not paying attention.

"Are you?" he asks hotly. "Because you really don't seem like it."

"And how the hell would _you_ know?" she asks, turning towards him a little bit more. "We've had...what...a _half_ a conversation? Don't pretend you're concerned."

"Don't pretend that coming here will make up for not being around when she died," he says, locking eyes with Peyton.

She can't tell whether or not he means it, but it doesn't really matter either way. He still said the words, and he still made it sound like an accusation. An accusation she doesn't appreciate in the least.

"You're a bastard," she says after a moment. She's so mad that she doesn't even bother to regret her word choice.

She just gets up and walks away, and leaves him in she and Brooke's sacred place.

_----_

She cries herself to sleep that night, wondering if just maybe he's right and her thinking of Brooke now really means nothing. She wants to think he's not right, but she really has no idea. That's the thing about death. The only thing certain is the hurt.

And she finds herself most of all worrying that he thinks less of her for it all. All those choices she made years ago and can't take back. She's terrified that no matter how much she's changing again, he'll always see her as the girl who walked away from them all and went to live a life he knew nothing about.

She's sleeping mid-morning when she feels someone's eyes on her and she wakes up in a panic.

"Jesus!" she yells when she sees him leaning against her door frame. "What the hell, Lucas?! How did you get in here?"

"I have a key," he says, holding the metal in his hand.

"I'd like it back," she says seriously, clutching the sheet to her chest as she sits up a little bit.

But he just looks at her with a devious smirk and slips the key back into his pocket.

"Fine. I'll change the locks," she says bitterly. "I want you to leave."

"I came to apologize," he says, sitting at the edge of her bed facing her.

"Save your breath," she says, narrowing her eyes at him.

Why the fuck is he smirking like that?

"You know that no one has called me anything but my name since she died?" he says, and she looks at him in complete confusion. "No one yells at me or talks to me the way you did. People let me in front of them in line at the grocery store, just because I'm that guy whose girlfriend died three years ago."

"Why are you telling me this?" she asks softly, shaking her head.

"Because you called me a bastard," he says with a laugh. "It was amazing."

"Well...I've got a few more things I'd like to call you," she mutters, and he just smiles a little wider and laughs a little harder. "OK, if I were wearing pants, I'd be kicking your ass out of my house right now. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You aren't wearing pants?" he asks, looking over to where her legs are covered by red bed sheets.

"Can you...focus? Or...Stop staring!" she says, finally letting herself smile as she swats his arm. The sheet falls to her waist and he sees the lace-detailed black tank top she's wearing.

"I just wanted to apologize for being a jerk," he says sincerely. "And to thank you for being a bitch."

Her jaw drops and he laughs again, and she's shaking her head at him.

"You can _go_ now," she says, glancing towards the door.

He's not sure she's serious and neither is she.

"Why don't we...I mean, we could hang out. Grab a coffee?" he suggests quietly.

"I actually have a lot to do today," she says. It's a lie, and she doesn't know if he can still read her as well as he used to.

"It's 10:30 and you're still in bed," he points out. She still has the same playful glare she shoots him when he's busting her chops. He's happy that some things never change. "Come on. One coffee, then you can do whatever."

"One," she says after a moment.

"Great," he says with a smile. She looks at him and raises her eyebrows when he doesn't get up. "What?"

"Luke!" she cries, moving her hand in a sweeping motion over her body.

"Right!" he laughs. "Put on pants. Or don't. Whatever."

"Shut up."

He gets up and walks to the door, but turns around before he walks out of the room.

"Peyton," he says, and she turns to him, "we'll...we'll get there, OK? Someday. It's just...it won't all be easy."

She knows he's only talking about friendship - nothing more - and she's surprisingly alright with that. She thinks that maybe that's exactly what she needs, too.

"I didn't expect it to be," she admits sincerely. "But I'm still going to call you on your shit."

He just laughs again and nods his head. "I'm glad."

"Good. Now get the hell out already, because no matter how long you stand there in my doorway, I'm still not getting out of bed while you're here," she says with a raised brow.

He winks and tugs the door closed, and there's something - a distant voice in the back of his head that might be leftover from his younger days - that takes that one simple word and repeats it with a different end result and meaning, and his heart beats just a little faster.

_Someday_.

And he realizes that what he thought, that day on the beach, was sadness, isn't really sadness at all.

It's anger.

He smiles to himself when he thinks that maybe they can be angry together.


	2. Chapter 2

It starts out easy.

They start doing more than just coffee after that first day. They spend a few hours, a few days a week catching up on each others' lives, and they tease each other like they used to. They go to a movie together and go to dinner, and he helps fix up her car for her. Again.

They're sitting in the empty café one night after closing. Karen has long since left, and simply told them to lock up when they leave. Lucas is sitting at the counter while Peyton scrounges through the fridge for leftover desserts.

"Chocolate cheesecake!" she cries triumphantly. "But only one piece, so looks like you're out of luck, Lucas."

"You aren't even going to share?"

"I don't share chocolate," she says seriously as she walks back over to him and sets a piece of cherry pie in front of him, and bites into her cheesecake.

"I love cherry pie," he says with a mouthful of his dessert.

"I know," she laughs. "But you're disgusting right now. Check your manners."

"Says the girl with chocolate sauce on her cheek," he scoffs.

"Shut up!" she says, wiping her face with her hand. She brushes the chocolate onto his forearm, and he glares at her. "What?"

"Mature," he says, deadpan. He licks the chocolate off his arm, and her jaw drops, making him laugh.

"I'm _so_ telling your mom," she insists.

"Uh...I'm 23, but go ahead," he scoffs.

She rolls her eyes and he chuckles at her.

They're getting there. Slowly. They're playful and they have fun, and they're gradually working their way up to more serious issues than just favourite desserts and what bands she met and catered to, and how it felt to win two Division II titles as a coach.

"You date anyone in L.A.?" he asks nonchalantly.

"Um...yeah," she says after swallowing. She sets her fork on the rim of her plate and turns toward him a little bit. "There were a couple guys."

"Tell me they weren't at the same time," he pleads, and she narrows her eyes at him and shakes her head.

"No," she says emphatically. "Well, there was Johnson, who..."

"Hang on. First name?"

"Johnson."

"His first name is Johnson," Lucas states skeptically, a smirk on his face.

"Yes! God!" she says with a laugh.

"If his last name is also Johnson, I will _so_ make fun of you," he insists, taking another bite of pie.

"It isn't," she says curtly. "It's...Jackson."

"His name is Johnson Jackson!?" he asks, laughing hysterically.

"OK, do you want to hear about the relationship, or would you rather just sit here laughing like a jackass all night long," she inquires with her eyebrow kinked.

"I'm sorry. Carry on," he says sincerely, though his smile stays in place.

"He was...brilliant," she tells him. "Smart and talented and...gorgeous."

"And yet, you're here," he points out. It's not mean or teasing, he's just curious about her life.

"Well, it was right after I moved there, for one thing," she explains. "And he was _the_ most _boring_ man I had ever met."

They share a laugh at her admission, and he shakes his head. He really can't see her with anyone 'boring'. Any man who even tries to date her has to be exciting and interesting and maybe a little rough around the edges.

"How long were you with him?"

"A few months," she says. "But it just all fizzled out. No matter how hot he was, it just wasn't worth it."

"Well, at least you have standards, Peyton," he teases, and she hits his arm once more. "What about the other guy?"

"Julian," she says, a hint of sadness in her tone. "We were...he was different."

"Different how?" he asks, getting serious upon hearing the tone of her voice.

"We were...I loved him. We loved each other," she says, picking at her cheesecake with her fork. "And it was good, you know? We were together for a year and a half."

"Wow," Lucas says softly. "That's...a long time."

"Yeah." She forces a smile, and he gives her a sad one. "We lived together for a year, too."

"So why'd you break up?"

"We...he thought...There were things about me that he just didn't understand," she explains vaguely.

"What does that...?"

"He just...he thought he could fix me, and my...everything. And when he realized he couldn't, he didn't want the broken girl anymore," she says, shrugging a shoulder like it's the most simple thing in the world.

The truth was, she wasn't ever really going to get over Lucas and the broken heart she left Tree Hill with. She wasn't ever going to get over the guilt she felt about Brooke. She wasn't ever going to get over thinking that she didn't belong in L.A. and that there was something waiting for her in a state across the country.

And that 'something' - some_one_ - was captured in photos in her apartment, and Julian didn't appreciate her not taking them down. He asked insulting questions that he had every right to ask, wondering why she had more pictures of that blonde man than of himself.

He realized that no matter how hard he loved her, her broken heart would never heal; that her broken heart just wasn't his to heal.

"Fix you?" Lucas asks. "I don't..."

Lucas had always liked that she was a little jaded, a little dark. She's even more jaded and more dark now, and he can't help but think that's a good thing, though maybe it's awful of him to even consider it.

"It's nothing," she says, smiling weakly as she shakes her head. "It just ended, and...That was like a year ago. It's all for the best, right?"

"Sure," he says softly.

He wonders if she really feels that way. He's pretty sure she does.

And he really wonders why he's just a little bit jealous of this Julian guy.

"It's getting late," she points out abruptly. "I should...I need sleep. I'm taking care of Jamie tomorrow."

"Oh yeah. You definitely need sleep," he says with a chuckle. He knows she feels like she's said too much, and he really doesn't want her to feel that way.

She used to be able to tell him everything.

And if she thinks he can't see the guilt in her eyes, no doubt stemming from the fact that he was Brooke's boyfriend, she's only fooling herself.

He's slowing getting to know her again. Not just the details she speaks, but the subtle things she doesn't have to speak. The way she looks to the ground if she's not being completely honest with him, or how she tucks her hair behind her ear when they're walking and a man their age eyes her. How her eyes sparkle when she's really happy, and how her hands shake when she's scared.

He hasn't failed to notice that her hands aren't ever really steady.

----

They meet up a couple days later, and she tells him all about her day with Jamie and all the adorable things the little boy said to her. She explains that it's clear that he loves his uncle, and Lucas beams.

This summer feels a little like the one they shared before their senior year. Sure, there are a few more people around, and they have other things to do, but they each still spend more time with each other than anyone else.

Well, they're starting to.

He showed up at her house late that morning with two cups of fresh lemonade that some kids down the street were selling, and she makes fun of him when he tells her he gave the kids $10 instead of the $2 they were charging. He smiles boyishly and shrugs his shoulders, and she kind of loves that he's so generous and so good with children.

She paints her toes at her desk with her foot propped up on the surface, and he reads an old Hemingway, laying on her bed. It's a lazy summer day, and the black polish she's putting on her toes doesn't seem to match the mood.

"I still can't believe you were ever a cheerleader," he says absently.

"What!?"

"Black toes, punk and metal music..."

"Oh, come on. I was cheery!" she says, plastering on her old fake cheer smile.

"No. You really weren't," he laughs.

"Whatever! You want to see something?" she asks, standing from her place.

She pulls open her closet door, and she's instantly reminded why she's been keeping it closed.

There's Lucas' name.

He's on the door.

He's on the damn door under Brooke.

They're suddenly both quiet, and when Peyton looks back at him, his head is down. She's almost glad he doesn't see her doing her best not to choke up.

"Wow," he says after a moment. "You got Dan?"

She smiles, sighs her relief, and shakes her head.

"Fair trade, huh?" she asks. "But...I also got Nathan, and the River Court guys...and...Dave Grohl!"

She smiles a little wider, remembering that day at the end of the summer before their senior year, when Brooke stormed into her bedroom and wrote those lists on her closet doors.

And she has a desperate urge to go and sit with Brooke and tell her all the words she couldn't say the last time she visited. Apologies that are years too late, and reminiscing over stories from their youth. Spice Girls mugs and silly photos. Beach parties and boys.

But talk of boys would turn into talk of Lucas, and talk of Lucas would turn into guilt and pain and hurt, and the fear that those things would never go away. She's afraid that her heart will never let herself get over him, but her head will never let herself be with him.

"So what are you showing me?" he asks, getting them back on track.

She disappears into the closet and emerges holding her old Ravens cheer uniform up to her body.

"I found it the other day. There's no way it still fits," she says with a raised brow when she sees his smirk. "So don't get any ideas, mister."

It's simply a joke she's making because she's a girl and he's a guy, but his eyes cloud over anyway, thinking of sitting in that very position - laid back against her pillows - and her wearing that little uniform.

But this can't be that.

Right?

"Well, I'm sure it would," he says seriously. "You haven't changed a bit."

"That's so not true!" she cries.

"Yes it is. You're still all skinny arms and no ass," he teases.

"I _have_ an ass," she says, glaring at him. "And besides...shut up." She turns around and walks back into her closet, and she can literally feel his gaze on her. "Don't bother staring!"

"There's nothing to stare _at_," he chuckles.

"There is so! I hate you right now," she says. "And you were _so_ staring."

"I wasn't!"

"Were too," she says, stepping back into the room and closing her closet doors again. He blushes a little bit and he goes back to his book, and she goes back to painting her toes.

They're comfortable again, but Peyton can't stop thinking about Brooke.

She never really does.

----

"Can I ask you a question?" Lucas asks the following Saturday as they sit on the bleachers at the River Court.

It's been just a few weeks since they started talking, and he's not once said that phrase.

And she's terrified by it.

And it'd be easier to focus if her heart wasn't racing. He's not wearing a shirt, and the ball rests between his feet on the ground. He's sweating, and his hair is damp, and he's just sprayed himself with water from his bottle.

There's no denying that he's beautiful.

She really wishes she _could_ deny it.

She clears her throat and looks away from him to try to regain the control over herself that she's quite sure she never should have lost.

"Yeah," she says, adding a nod for emphasis.

"Why didn't you come back?" he inquires delicately. They both know he doesn't need to elaborate, but he does anyway. "I know Haley called you."

She's been asking herself that very question since she moved back to Tree Hill.

Maybe she's been asking herself that very question for three years.

"It was all...complicated," she says vaguely.

"No, not really," he says, squinting and shaking his head. It's obvious that she's making excuses, and he doesn't like it.

"Brooke and I...we...just didn't leave things on good terms," she explains. "She didn't even..."

"What?"

"It's selfish," she says, shaking her head vehemently. "I'm not...I'm not doing this."

"Peyton, I just...I just want to know what was so big that it would have kept you from coming to say goodbye," he says sincerely.

She knows - well, she feels like - she owes him this. He deserves to know why she wasn't there for Brooke; for him. But he won't understand, and she won't tell him the truth. Not the real truth.

"She...she actually said the words 'good riddance' when I told everyone I was going to L.A., Lucas," Peyton says softly. "And...when she died, I really just...All I could hear was her saying those words, and a lot of other words, and I knew she wouldn't have wanted me there."

He sighs and nods his head. Maybe he does understand.

"I think she would have," he insists quietly. "I think she missed you."

And that's when the tears start.

"Did she ever...did she say that?" Peyton asks, turning to look at him pleadingly.

She almost really hopes Brooke said the words. They'd make her feel more guilty, but she thinks they might just make her feel better, too.

"She always asked Haley how you were," he says, smiling a little bit as Peyton closes her eyes. "When you got promoted, I caught her smiling, and she rolled her eyes at me."

Peyton lets herself laugh at that. That's just so _Brooke_.

"She never actually said the words," he continues. "But...she also kept every picture of the two of you. And she had the Spice Girls in her iPod, too."

He smirks at her and drapes his arm around her shoulder, forgetting how sweaty he is. Truthfully, she doesn't care. He's just told her all the things that she really wanted to hear.

But now she feels like she let Brooke down by not ever going to visit her, except that one day with Haley.

So after Lucas has gone home, she ventures out to the cemetery and she places more of those red gerbera daisies at Brooke's headstone.

But this time, she talks.

"Hey, B. Davis," she starts quietly. "I know I suck for not coming sooner. I know you'd totally bitch me out for it, and I'd totally have to let you." She takes a deep breath and smiles sadly. "You should see Jamie. I'm sure you know he's adorable, but...he's such an amazing kid. He's really caring and...he's just a lovely little boy. Nathan and Haley are great. I feel like...they really don't hold my leaving against me. I just love them for that."

She pauses and smiles at an older lady who walks past her, and the woman offers a gentle wave as she weaves through headstones.

"I feel like I belong here, Brooke, and...I really wish you were here, too. I can't...I don't think I can forgive myself for how things ended, and I hate...I hate that I ever made you think that our friendship didn't mean anything to me. It meant everything. And I really only stayed away because I didn't know if you'd want me around. But...now I'm here, and you're either standing up there with your brow kinked and your arms crossed, waiting for me to quit babbling, or your chin's quivering because you're trying not to cry."

She wipes her own tears and smiles to herself at how well she knows her former friend.

"Lucas is good. He's...different than I remember. He's...He seems really angry sometimes, and I know that has everything to do with you, Brooke. And I assume it's OK that I'm talking about him, since I haven't been struck down by lightning yet," she says with a laugh. "I just worry that he's never going to get past you, and I know you'll hate me for saying that, but...you know as well as I do that...well, you don't just get over Lucas Scott."

She brushes the hair back from her face and notices how hard her hands are shaking. All she can think of is the time a few days ago when Lucas pointed out how unsteady she is now.

If he only knew.

"But I won't do that to you. I couldn't. Not after everything, and...I'd like to think you forgive me. I really want you to, because...I can't really forgive myself. I'm just...I miss you, and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Brooke. And I love you."

She stands and places her hand on the stone, mumbles a goodbye, and starts walking away.

She sees the sky clearing, and the overcast clouds that have been lingering all morning are blowing out of town.

She wonders if just maybe that's her forgiveness.

----

One night, they have dinner at the little run-down diner on the pier, sharing chili fries and milkshakes, then they stroll on the beach. She's got her flip flops in her hand, and her summer dress blows in the breeze, and she slips an elastic off her wrist to hold her hair in place in a cute little ponytail.

And that's when it all changes.

It's not easy anymore.

In fact, it's really damn hard.

She mentions something trivial about her life in L.A., and he asks her the question he's managed not to ask.

Until now.

"Why did you leave?"

"Lucas..."

"I just want to know what had you on the first flight out after graduation, Peyton," he says seriously.

"I had to...I just wanted to," she says, looking to the ground.

She won't tell him the real answer. She won't tell him that she left so that he and Brooke could be happy. She won't tell him that she left to please the girl who all but told her to leave Tree Hill.

She won't tell him that she left so she could fall out of love with him.

"Why don't you just tell me?" he asks, squinting at her in that way he always used to do when he was mad at her for not being totally honest with him.

"Because...I don't really know, OK?" she says hotly.

"You don't know why you left, or you don't know why you can't tell me?" he asks. "Because either way, you suck."

"Screw you, OK?" she bites out. "You...you can't judge me. Don't you dare."

"I'd appreciate a little honesty, Peyton," he says, shaking his head.

"And I'd appreciate if you didn't think you were entitled to know every little detail about my life," she says.

"Every little detail?" he asks irately. "One big, huge detail that led to you being away for four years!"

"You know about the job," she says, shrugging her shoulders and hoping that answer will be enough.

She should have known that he wouldn't buy that it was just the job.

"There are jobs in North Carolina," he points out. He's really hell bent on getting her to tell him everything. Maybe they both know he's wasting his breath.

"Can we just drop it?" she begs. "Please."

"I really don't think I'm asking too much of you," he says seriously, stopping in his tracks.

"Luke...you're not exactly..."

"What? I'm not exactly what?" he asks bitterly.

His curt questioning of what she's really asking just confirms that she needs to ask it. Only now it's a little easier not to care how angry he'll be once she does.

"You're not exactly being honest with me either," she points out.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Why are you so _mad_?" she asks. "You're...you're not the same sweet boy you were."

"You wanna know why? Because _you_ left, and Brooke died," he says, as though it's all really just that simple. "And I lost two amazing girls. Again. Like I always did. I lost one of you, and that led to losing the other."

"Are you...Are you _blaming_ _me_ for how you feel about your life?" she asks, putting her hand on her hip.

"I'm not blaming you for everything," he tells her. "It just would have been nice if you were around when I needed someone."

"I wasn't yours to need!" she shouts.

"You were my friend!"

"_Exactly_," she spits back, pointing at him harshly.

Friend. Exactly what she didn't want to be. Exactly what he hadn't realized was slowly killing her. Exactly what he had no idea Brooke hated her for.

"What does that even mean?" he asks, throwing his hands in the air. "God, you're...you're fucking infuriating!"

"Why do you insist on being _such_ an asshole?" she says, turning and starting to walk again.

He grabs her elbow and pulls her back to him, and she looks up at him with a mixture of fear and anger in her eyes.

His touch turns gentle and almost becomes a caress before he lets her go. Anger, he can deal with. He doesn't want her to be afraid of him, and maybe the fear he saw there in those green eyes was the most sobering thing he's felt in years.

Who has he become?

She rubs her hand over the place where his hand was, and she sees the remorse on his face. She can't find it in herself to tell him that he didn't hurt her. He'd hurt her long before he touched her arm.

"I want to know the truth," he says through gritted teeth.

"You..._God_, Lucas. I can't do this right now!"

"Why the hell not!?" he yells back.

"Because...I don't want to! And I shouldn't have to," she says, her tone deadly serious.

"I just want you to be honest," he says, shaking his head. "And if you can't do that then..."

"Then what?" she asks, putting a hand on her hip.

"Then maybe this...us...isn't as good as we think it is," he says.

She lets out a bitter laugh and shakes her head at him. He's just broken her heart again, and he doesn't even realize it.

"Well...then...I'm going home," she tells him, walking away from where they stood.

That's the moment he realizes that he's just done the one thing he learned years ago not to do with Peyton Sawyer.

He tried to force her into something.

"Peyton!" he calls after her.

She doesn't turn around.

And he won't chase after her.


	3. Chapter 3

They don't speak for two weeks.

She won't take his calls, and she really does change the locks on her doors. He's tried to pass messages along through Nathan and Haley, but she never responds or gets in touch with him. She walks the opposite direction when she sees him walking down the street.

He wonders why he's the one doing all the work. He wonders why she's not seeking him out.

He realizes quickly that the reason for her leaving Tree Hill must be something huge, and she's insistent on not filling him in on it. He really wishes it wasn't killing him not to know the truth.

Peyton and Nathan take Jamie out of town to watch a AAA baseball game, and as the little boy sips on his soda, blissfully unaware of anything that isn't going on on the field, Nathan figures that's the best time to talk to her about what's happening with her and Lucas. He doesn't really care about baseball anyway. Besides, Haley's been on his back about it for two weeks. Neither Lucas nor Peyton will say what's really going on, and Haley's sick of not knowing.

"So what'd he do?" Nathan asks abruptly.

Peyton lets out a breathy laugh and shakes her head as she looks skyward. She doesn't need to ask what he's talking about. In fact, she saw it coming a mile away. She's actually surprised he waited until the fourth inning to mention it.

"Typical Lucas Scott behaviour," she says bitterly. "He feels like he's entitled to know everything about me, and I'm getting a little sick of it."

"Right," he says, turning his attention back to the game.

"What?" she asks. There's something he's not saying, and it's written all over his face.

"Well...it's just...you kind of set the precedent for that, didn't you?" he asks delicately. "You weren't exactly an open book to anyone back in the day." She opens her mouth to protest, but he won't let her. "Except Lucas."

"That's so not..."

"It is the point," he says, crossing his arms as he sits back in his seat. She wants to wipe that smug grin off his face, but she can't, because they both know he's right. "Face it, Peyton. You just don't want to tell him because you're afraid of what he'll do once he knows."

"What are you talking about?" She turns her body towards his, and he glances over to make sure that Jamie isn't listening to their conversation.

"Look, he told me that he wants to know why you left," Nathan explains. "And I know the reason, because you told Haley a few weeks ago, and she told me. And I think that you're afraid that if you tell him, he'll realize that he has feelings for you, too."

"I don't..."

"Don't bother denying it," he says firmly, shaking his head in disgust. "If you want...what I think you want, there's really nothing standing in your way, Peyton."

"Except the fact that he's not over Brooke, and I won't do that," she says quietly. "I won't be his replacement, and I won't betray Brooke."

"And she didn't betray you?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Nathan!"

"Hey, I love Brooke. And...I miss her all the time," he explains sentimentally. "But...it's no secret that some of the things she said about you senior year were...just...they shouldn't have been said."

"Maybe so, but...I don't want anyone blaming her for anything," she says softly. "And...I'm the idiot who fell in love with her boyfriend. Twice."

"And Lucas is the idiot who fell in love with the wrong girl. Twice," he points out, smirking at her.

"Don't say that, Nathan!" she pleads.

"And he is over her," Nathan insists, ignoring her statement. "Trust me."

"I really don't think so," she says sadly.

"He is," he repeats. His tone suggests there's no room for argument. "And don't you think that Brooke would want both you and Lucas to be happy? If that means the two of you are together, why should that matter?"

She doesn't say anything. She can't. She's suddenly asking herself the same question.

Repeatedly.

"I don't know who'd _want_ to be a pitcher," he muses, catching her attention again. "You just stare at another guy's 'business' all day long."

"Nathan!" she laughs, swatting his arm.

"What?" he asks innocently as she shakes her head. This is what she's missed most about him. This is another reason she's so glad she's home.

And yes, the Scott boys love their basketball. They simply don't understand other sports.

----

It's another few days of her ignoring his calls, but it's for an entirely different reason. Now she's afraid of what she'll say when she sees him.

And OK, maybe she still thinks she deserves an apology, and that she shouldn't have to tell him her motives. She knows they matter - they matter in a big way - but he doesn't need to know them. He just needs to know that she left, and now she's back.

But then Nathan's birthday rolls around, and Haley's throwing a barbecue and inviting pretty much everyone they know. Lucas knows Peyton will be there, and that certainly she can't dodge him for the entire day.

But she tries. She tries really damn hard.

She's constantly helping Haley, or entertaining Jamie and the other kids, or laughing with the guys. With _his_ friends. Friends she's adopted since returning, and he had no idea.

He didn't know that she and Skills went shopping a couple days before and she helped pick out the shirt he's wearing. He didn't know that she and Mouth have been spending a couple nights a week watching baseball together, since they're the only two who really enjoy the sport.

And he hates that he cares so much about the secret she's keeping that he can't be the one she takes shopping or watches sports with.

He just sips his beer, and turns his head any time she looks his way.

Later, she's standing in the living room with a blonde baby girl in her arms. One of the teachers at the school has a six-month-old daughter, and apparently - or so he's heard from Haley - the three women have been spending time together. Lauren, the baby's mother, is standing with a few other faculty members on the back patio, and Lucas slips into the house in hopes of catching her alone.

He watches her for a few moments as she cradles the baby in her arms and feeds the girl her bottle. She speaks softly, and coos and encourages the girl to finish her bottle.

And it hits him - not for the first time, and not for the last, he's certain - that she's absolutely beautiful.

Slender arms and tiny waist. Perfect skin and eyes that he doesn't think he'll ever understand. Golden hair and pretty smile. Endless legs and, though he'd made fun of her for it, a great behind. But, that's the male in him coming out, and it's not quite as poetic as his description of the rest of her.

"You're good with her," he observes. There's a split second where she actually smiles at him, and then she turns away.

"She's good with me," Peyton says, looking down at the baby.

"Can I apologize?" he asks sincerely.

"I don't know. Can you?" she inquires, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I just didn't know...I don't know why you're keeping it a secret."

"Luke..."

"It doesn't matter," he says, cutting her off. "It just matters that you left."

"OK, _enough_ with the accusations," she says, thrusting the empty bottle into his hand and moving the baby to rest against her shoulder. She gently pats the girl on the back as she keeps talking. "Yes, I left, but...I had a life to live, too, Lucas. And yeah, that maybe wasn't the best life, but that was for me to find out."

"I know that," he insists, shaking his head at her. "I know. And I'm not accusing you. I'm saying that I understand, and that you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"Good," she whispers. She finally feels like he gets it. And now she kind of wants to tell him. Eventually. "Are you sick of the cold shoulder yet?"

He smiles when he sees the smirk on her lips, and he wonders if she was just avoiding him to prove that she could.

"It's frigid," he corrects. "And yes."

He runs his hand over the baby's fine hair, and he sighs his relief that Peyton doesn't hate him.

He really doesn't know what he'd do if she did.

----

They've just finished cleaning up, and they were the last to leave the house, and of course, Lucas wouldn't let Peyton walk home alone. The sun is just setting on their little town, and the sky is shades of pink and purple above them. She loves this time of day.

They're quiet for a bit. He wants to say something, but he doesn't know what to say, so he stays quiet. He won't ruin the moment by saying the wrong thing, and they've just started talking again anyway. He can't risk going back to the way things have been for the last two weeks. He'll take walking in silence with her as long as he can be next to her.

His hand brushes against hers as they walk, and neither of them acknowledges it, but Peyton feels like her body has been set on fire, just from that one simple, accidental touch.

And she knows it's now or never.

"I was in love with you," she states suddenly.

"What?" he breathes out, shaking his head quickly. "I'm sorry. What?"

"That's why I left," she explains. "That's why Brooke and I stopped talking, and why we were fighting. I was...that's why."

"Brooke knew?" he asks, stopping in his tracks. "She knew that's why you were going?"

"I...well, I don't know if she knew that was why I left, but she knew how I felt."

"About me," he says needlessly. He sits down on the curb and she sits next to him, but he won't look at her. "How long?"

"How long what?" she asks in confusion.

"How long did you...feel that way?" he elaborates.

"I don't know...It doesn't matter," she says, shaking her head. He's focusing on entirely the wrong things, and she doesn't really know why.

"Yes, it does," he insists harshly. "It does, Peyton."

"Maybe since...since the beginning," she admits quietly. "I don't know. I just know that when I got back from Savannah, everything changed. And then I told Brooke and...it was all just bad."

"Since the beginning?" he repeats, looking at her for confirmation.

"Lucas, that's not..."

"It matters!" he cries.

"I don't understand why you're dwelling on it!" she says firmly. He's embarrassing her, and she doesn't like it.

"How different could we have..."

"Don't," she insists, shaking her head. "Don't go there, please, Lucas, OK? Because I've been doing it for six years, and it's not..."

"You _still_ wonder? You've _been_ wondering?" he asks, as though it's the most insane thing she's said all night. He turns his head towards her quickly, and looks at her imploringly.

"God, Lucas, you're dwelling on all the wrong things here," she says, shaking her head. She stands from her place and starts walking down the sidewalk, and he just can't let her go like that.

"Can you stop?" he requests, standing and jogging to catch up with her. He plants his feet in front of her and grips her shoulders. "Stop. OK? For a minute."

"No," she says, avoiding eye contact. "You're...you were with Brooke, and you were obviously happy, and then...she..."

Her chin starts to quiver, and she closes her eyes tightly, and he realizes that she's just grieving now. It's really hitting her in _this_ moment that Brooke's gone. It's late and she really just wants to go home. She's exhausted and tired of doing this dance with Lucas.

But Brooke is _gone_.

"Hey. It's OK," he says soothingly

"It's not!" she says as the tears start to fall. "It's not OK."

"Come here."

He pulls her into his arms right there on the sidewalk, and he strokes her hair and her back while she cries against his chest. And for a moment, she thinks she sees the boy she used to know.

"The last real conversation she and I had, I accused her of not being in love with you," Peyton admits, pulling away from him. "I...senior year was...awful for me. And I blamed her, Lucas. I _always_ _blamed_ her for that."

"Peyton, you can't..."

"I didn't even come home," she says softly through her tears. "I told myself she wouldn't want me here, but...I should have been! I should have come home."

"You're home now," he tells her. "Peyton, please don't do this, OK? You're here now, and...I know you visited her."

"How do you know?" she asks, her voice timid and childlike as she looks up at him.

"Because she told me once that only two people in the world knew that her favourite flowers were red gerbera daisies," he tells Peyton with a shadow of a smile. "One of those people was me, and the other was you."

She smiles despite the fact that there are more tears streaming down her cheeks, and she shakes her head as Lucas' hand rubs circles on her back.

"It just doesn't feel like enough," she whispers. "She was my best friend."

"I know," he says softly, pulling her against him again. "I know she was."

They stay like that for minutes. He doesn't say anything more, and neither does she. She just adores him for understanding that she still feels like Brooke was _always_ her best friend. He's not questioning her about that. He honestly knows he doesn't need to.

He doesn't know why he does it, but he takes her hand in his as they start to walk towards her house again.

And he doesn't know why he's surprised, but she holds onto him the entire distance.

"You want me to stay?" he asks as she fumbles with her keys.

Yes. She does want him to stay.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "I'm...I'll be fine."

"OK," he says. He knows she's lying, and he's pretty sure she won't be fine for a while. "I'll call you tomorrow, OK? So answer your damn phone."

"I will," she says with a weak chuckle. "Thank you, Lucas."

"Sure," he whispers.

He walks down the steps and hears the door close behind him, and all he can think is that he wished she'd asked him to spend the night.

----

He doesn't call her the next day.

He pounds on her door at 7:00 a.m. instead.

He can actually hear her swearing as she stomps down the stairs, and he has to wipe the smile off his face before she answers the door.

"What in the _hell_!?" she shouts at him.

Her hair is a right mess, her face is free of makeup, her little shorts barely cover anything at all, and her black tank top isn't leaving much to the imagination.

And he finds himself staring.

"Can you be a normal person for, like, once!?" she asks, still not moving to let him inside. "You said you'd call!"

"Well, call, in the traditional sense, really does mean to pay a visit, so..."

"Seriously? Stop talking," she warns him, narrowing her eyes. "What!?"

"Wow, you _really_ aren't a morning person."

"I am _this_ close to kicking your ass down those steps and going back to bed," she says, putting a hand on her hip. "So if you have something to say, start talking."

He pulls a paper cup from behind his back and smiles at her. "I brought you a coffee."

"That makes me hate you only a _little_ less," she grumbles, taking the cup from his hand.

She turns and walks into the house, and he's frozen in place as he watches her walk away. She _has_ to know how sexy she is. He can't find it in him to tell her.

"So, why are you getting me up at the crack of dawn?" she asks, laying on her sofa, cradling the cup of coffee in her hands.

"First of all, the crack of dawn was hours ago," he says, and he laughs when she glares at him. She tucks her legs up a little closer to her so he can sit at the other end of the sofa. "And I wanted to check up on you."

"And piss me off?" she asks incredulously. "Seriously. Sleep makes me feel better, and _you_ ruined it."

"Oh, I didn't ruin anything," he scoffs, waving his hand in the air. "And...I'll make you feel better."

There's a smirk on his lips that she suddenly wants to kiss.

"And just how do you expect to do that?" she asks softly. She smiles when he takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

"You know the last thing I said to Brooke?"

"Lucas..." she says pleadingly. It's way too early for this, no matter how freaking good that coffee tastes.

"I said that it'd be nice if she could think of someone other than herself," he says, and Peyton closes her eyes and shakes her head at him. "I didn't mean it, and I think she knew that, but...That's what I said, and then six hours later..."

"Luke," she whispers. "Don't."

"I'm just saying that...it doesn't matter what you said to her," he explains. "It matters how you remember her."

She inhales and lets out her breath slowly, and she smiles at him and nods her head.

"Thank you," she says softly.

"Now, as much as I am loving this little ensemble you've got on, can you please get dressed?" he says, eyeing her legs and what can only be considered her ass, now that her legs are pulled up to her chest.

"You love the ensemble, huh?" she asks with a laugh. "Then maybe I don't need to change."

She's flirting. She's _flirting_ with him, and she doesn't really know why, other than she kind of wants to. She definitely wants to. He's sitting there in his jeans and plan black tee shirt, and his hair's a little messy, though she knows he's styled it like that on purpose, and he's gazing at her like he finds her attractive.

He _has_ to know how sexy he is.

"Hard not to love it," he says softly.

They can't do this. She's still got feelings for him, and she confessed that last night she'd loved him since they were 16. She never told him she still might feel that way, but with him sitting there and saying all the right things and letting his eyes shine in her general direction, she feels like all that love never went away. And while all the 'should have beens' sit in the space between them, she still feels like they can't do this.

"What...what are you doing?" she asks softly, looking down at her hands.

"Telling you I think you're sexy as hell sitting there in those...shorts," he says, his voice low and making her heart race.

"We just...Lucas, we _just_ had a conversation about her, and now you're saying this to me, and...you can't do that," she insists seriously.

"Why not?" he asks incredulously. "Peyton, it's been three years, and...what you said last night..."

"What I said last night was..."

"It's still there," he interrupts before she can say that it was nothing, or that it doesn't mean what they both know it does.

"What are you talking about?"

"Us!" he cries. "You and me. Peyton, it's...there hasn't been anyone since Brooke. Not even...anything. But you're here now, and I'm feeling...I'm _feeling_ things."

"We can't...I can't do this to her," she says, feeling herself tear up. "I took you from her before, and..."

"_She_ took you from _me_," Lucas says harshly. "She made you leave."

"No, she didn't!" she shouts. "Don't you dare blame her for that!"

"She didn't tell me about you!" he reminds her. "She knew why you left. She knew you were like my best friend, and she just let you go. She...you left because of her, and she didn't stop you."

"Lucas, don't do that, OK?" she says desperately, standing from her place. "Don't put that on her. She doesn't deserve that."

"I didn't deserve not having you around," he tells her, moving to stand in front of her. "And you didn't deserve to be cut out because you were honest."

His words hit her hard because they're so similar to the ones she spoke years ago, and she hates him for understanding so well. She hates him for thinking the same things she did.

But she loves him for saying it all out loud.

"Come with me," he says softly, loosely grasping her wrists.

"What? Luke..."

"Just...overnight," he says, and her eyebrows fly up. He chuckles and shakes his head. "Let's just take a trip, OK?"

"I don't know if that's..."

"You, me and a seedy motel room?" he suggests with a smirk on his face.

Her eyes lock with his and there's an understanding there that even if they did that very thing, there would be nothing wrong with it. They're adults, and they're both single, and they have no reason not to be together if they want to.

So she's almost willing to drag him to her bedroom right then and there.

"What do I need to bring?" she asks softly. He smiles a little brighter than she's seen since she's been back in Tree Hill, and her hands are shaking again.

"I'd be OK with putting you in the car just like this," he says, looking her up and down again. "But...whatever you want."

"Give me a few minutes," she requests, and he nods before she walks away from him. She turns around halfway between him and the stairs, and she sees him staring at her ass, and she just raises an eyebrow as he blushes and rolls his eyes.

She heads upstairs and her heart is racing at the prospect of spending anything more than just a couple hours with him.

She throws a pair of jeans and some shorts, and a few tops into a bag. She packs two bathing suits and underwear she knows is far too sexy and quite presumptuous. Then, even more presumptuous, she zips a few condoms into the hidden little pocket of the bag. What the hell is she _doing_? But, as sex-ed had taught her, it's better to be prepared and not need one, than to not be prepared and need one. Right? Right. Just in case.

For some reason, she thinks they've somehow passed the hurdle that was created by Brooke. And she isn't blaming Brooke for _being_ a hurdle. It was just _there_. That previously unspoken barrier that was standing there between she and Lucas, somehow quietly telling them both that they couldn't do it.

Maybe they had both suddenly realized that they can.

She tugs on a pair of denim cutoffs and a cute tank top, tames her hair and throws on some mascara and lip gloss. Then she takes a much needed deep breath before heading downstairs again.

"Seriously?" he asks, shaking his head at her. "These shorts aren't much better than the other ones."

"Look, if you're going to complain about my wardrobe choices all day long, I'm not going anywhere with you," she says seriously, placing her hand on her hip.

"I'm sorry," he says with a laugh. She's got even more fire in her than she used to, and he adores it. "And I wasn't complaining. Trust me."

He takes her bag and waits for her to lock the door, and when he tosses her bag in the back seat, she sees it land next to his own.

It's clear he's planned this.

She has no idea what he's searching for - what they're searching for - but she's really excited by the prospect of finding it.


	4. Chapter 4

They drive for hours. The windows are down and they've got a good mix of music on. Her feet are up on the dash and she taps her - now bright red - painted toes to the beat as her hair whips around in the wind.

He loves driving with her next to him.

She dominates the radio and the CD changer, and she rarely actually sits still. She hits him if she thinks of something she deems funny. She won't stop asking him where he's taking her. She whines a little every time he says he's not telling her.

The truth is, he doesn't know.

They don't say much - well, nothing serious anyway - and when she falls asleep after a while, he just smiles at her peaceful face. She really might be the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, and to think that until just over a month ago, he never thought he'd see her again...He almost can't believe it.

He pulls into a gas station to fill up and grab a couple snacks and bottles of water, and he's standing at the register when she comes up behind him and punches him hard on the arm.

"What the hell?" he asks, rubbing the spot on his arm that's sure to bruise as the man behind the counter laughs.

"You leave me sleeping in the car at a gas station in the middle of nowhere!?" she cries, throwing her arms in the air. "You're a dick!"

"Peyton, we're the only people here," Lucas points out with a laugh.

"Exactly! You left the keys in the ignition! Someone could have...God, I _hate_ you!" she shouts.

"Darlin', that kind of thing doesn't happen 'round here," the gentleman says, handing Lucas his change. "Not often, anyway."

Lucas and the man share a laugh and Peyton glares at them both.

"I can't believe you. You wake me up at _7:00 in the morning_, tease me relentlessly, _somehow_ convince me to come away with you, and then you abandon me in the middle of nowhere!"

"Peyton, I was 20 feet away," Lucas says, still smirking. He turns to the man behind the counter and nods. "Thanks."

"Good luck, son."

"He'll need it!" she seethes as Lucas pushes her out the door.

"Would you _calm down_?" Lucas requests once they're outside. "Jeez, the only thing to be scared of out here is _you_."

"Shut up and drive, Scott," she mutters, slamming the car door behind her after she tucks her legs in.

Once they're on the road again, she gazes out the window and turns her body away from him, and that's just no good for him. He can't let her stay mad.

"Hey," he says once it's become unbearable. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd wake up and...I'm sorry."

He's sincere and honest, and she realizes she _may_ have overreacted.

"It's OK," she says. "I'm sorry I went all crazy bitch on you. How's the arm?"

"Seriously? Lay off the boxing, OK?" he pleads. He reaches over and takes her hand in his, and they rest upon the gearshift as they drive through...She doesn't even know where.

"Where are we right now?" she asks with a laugh.

"Somewhere in Georgia," he says, shrugging his shoulder.

"Georgia!?" she asks with wide eyes. "How long was I asleep!?"

"A while," he laughs, and she just smiles and gazes past him towards the ocean. "I got you Twizzlers."

"I love Twizzlers!"

"OK, your mood swings are freaking me out," he says, making her glare at him.

"Well, sorry the girl with the stalker isn't crazy about being left in some skeevy gas station parking lot in a classic Mustang. _That's_ not the stuff of urban legends at all," she says sarcastically. He laughs a perfect laugh and squeezes her hand, and she has to smile.

They drive a while longer, chewing on licorice and drinking bottled water and listening to local radio stations. The sun is high in the sky, and she almost wants to stop and run into the ocean for a bit. She glances at Lucas and watches him as he watches the road.

There's something different about him from that first day on the beach. There's something different about him than even just the day before. He seems lighter and more carefree. He seems like a wonderful mix of the boy she used to know and the man she knows he is. He even seems different than the man who walked with her on that very same beach and pried and begged to know the reason for her leaving town.

It's almost like not knowing that reason had been weighing him down.

Not to mention, he looks totally sexy with one hand on the wheel and his aviator sunglasses on his face as he smiles and looks at the road. His fingers tap out a rhythm on the steering wheel to the music coming from the radio, and she finds herself lost in a daydream about those hands. A very, very _vivid_ daydream.

And it suddenly just got a hell of a lot hotter out.

"Wow," she says softly. It's barely even a whisper, and he shouldn't have even heard her, but he did.

"What?" he asks, glancing over at her.

"Nothing."

"Liar," he grins.

"I was just thinking..." she says, her voice trailing as she debates telling him exactly what she was thinking.

And she figures that he's asked her to come away, they've been flirting, he's holding onto her hand, and they're comfortable.

So she tells him the truth.

"You're just _really_ sexy," she breathes out.

He looks at her and smiles, then downshifts as he pulls the car over to the side of the road. He's out of the car with the door closed behind him before she can ask what the hell's going on. He walks around to her side and pulls the door open.

"Get out," he demands.

"Luke..."

"Get out," he repeats more forcefully.

She places her hand in his outstretched palm and steps out of the car, and in one swift movement, he slams the door shut and has her pinned between himself and the car. He's got one hand in her hip and the other resting on the roof of the car, and his body is pressed to hers.

"Lucas," she sighs. Her breath is caught in her throat as he looks at her, and her heart is beating so fast she thinks it might just stop.

And then he crashes his lips onto hers.

She moans into his kiss, and it somehow feels the same and different than it was years ago. He's a little rougher, though she can't say she isn't loving that. His hand still caresses her hip delicately, and he still buries a fist in her curls, and he still tastes the same, though now a little like Twizzlers, too.

She's pretty sure this is the sexiest kiss she's ever experienced. Standing up against his car with him arching into her as the intense summer sun of Georgia beats down on them.

His tongue explores her mouth, and she runs her fingers through his hair. There's a thin layer of sweat at the back of his neck that only adds to how _hot_ it all is, and when his hand moves to her bottom, she feels like he's encouraging her to wrap her leg around his waist.

So she does.

His hand comes in contact with the smooth skin of her thigh, and he moans as he arches against her again. He wonders if she finally knows what she does to him.

She throws her head back as he kisses the hollow of her throat and along her collar bone, and he can taste the salt of the sweat on her skin. He's ready to take her right then and there.

And then a truckload of teenaged boys passes, cheering and honking the horn, and Peyton and Lucas can only laugh. They rest their heads again each other's shoulders, and she takes his face in her hands, kissing him gently, and making him moan as she lowers her leg and brushes against him in all the best places.

"All that and I only called you sexy," she murmurs in contentment.

"Hmm." He brushes his lips against hers one last time, and he wonders how it's possible that until the day before she was still freezing him out.

"I need...I think we both need to take a dip," she says, laughing when he smirks wolfishly. "In the ocean...perv."

"Bathing suits are packed," he says. He's finding it really difficult to form proper sentences with her still so close and his hips still pressing against hers.

"Who needs 'em?" she asks, pushing him away and skipping off across the road towards the beach.

She's trying to kill him. He's sure of it.

He locks the car and starts walking after her with his hands in his pockets, and when she pulls her top over her head and she wears only a black bra, he has to shake his head at her. She's nuts.

And he loves it.

She shimmies out of her shorts and he sees the matching underwear she has on, and he doesn't know why that's so much sexier than a bikini, but it certainly is. He tugs his shirt over his head and steps out of his jeans, and he drops them on the sand with her things. She walks into the water until it hits her thighs, then dives in.

He's standing in front of her when she comes up for air, and he wraps his arms loosely around her waist.

"You're insane, you know that?" he asks, and she shrugs one shoulder as her hand comes to rest on his chest. "And you're just so...beautiful."

"Where is that seedy motel when you need it?" she asks, moving a little closer to him as the waves crash against their torsos.

"Girl...please. Stop," he growls. "I'm serious...there hasn't...since Brooke..."

"Not even once?" she asks delicately, and he shakes his head slowly. "Wow."

"Maybe I was waiting for you, and I just didn't know it," he says, smiling as he tucks her wet hair behind her ear. She leans forward and kisses him, and when she pulls away, he whines a little bit.

"Oh, honey," she says, "we need to get you laid."

They both laugh and he grips her a little tighter. That actually sounds like a pretty damn good idea.

They make it back to the car, and he's wearing just his jeans with his tee shirt tucked into the back pocket, and she's got her shorts and shirt back on, and he doesn't like that one bit. Once they're driving again, she unbuckles her seat belt and reaches into the back, her hips right next to his face as she fishes for something in her bag.

"Stop it," he warns.

"I'm getting a shirt!"

"You're wearing a shirt," he reminds her.

"Yeah, but it's all wet," she tells him. She laughs when she hears him take a deep breath.

Her knee is resting on the center console, and her tanned legs are just too close not to touch. So he hooks his arm around her leg and runs his hand up the back of her thigh.

"Stop!" she cries.

"I will if you will."

She swats him with her tee shirt as she flops back into her seat, and she glares at him for a moment as he smiles smugly next to her.

She pulls off her tank top and throws it into the back seat before pulling the dry one over her head. She pulls her hair up into a ponytail before she buckles her seat belt again, and he feels like he's completely under her spell. He can't say he's surprised by that at all.

She sings softly to a song that comes on the pop station they're tuned into, and she holds out licorice for him to bite, and she laughs when the candy falls into his lap. He looks between it and her expectantly, and she scowls at him before they both start to laugh. He swerves a little bit when she reaches over, picks the licorice up off his lap, and takes a bite. She smirks to herself.

She's thinking this road trip is getting really fun.

A little further down the highway, just inside the Florida border, they see a sign for beach side resort cottages, and when they glance at each other, they know that's where they're headed.

----

They pull up to the little resort community, tucked away in a secluded area of a seemingly deserted beach, and Peyton steps out of the car and stretches her arms over her head. Her back arches, and she stands on her tip toes, and Lucas catches a glimpse of a few inches of her skin at the small of her back as he walks up behind her with their bags in his hands.

He's thinking this road trip is getting really fun.

"What?" she asks when she turns around and sees him staring. He just tilts his head and looks at her to let her know she doesn't need to ask. He was just admiring her.

"Come on," he says simply as she tries not to laugh at him.

She can't say she hates the attention.

They step into the office, and Lucas immediately bristles as the young man behind the counter eyes Peyton up and down. She doesn't like it either. She slips her arm through Lucas', and he has to resist the urge to smile smugly at the dark haired guy who's getting the message loud and clear.

"Welcome," he says.

"Hi," Lucas says with a tense nod.

"One bed or two?" the guy asks.

"One's good," Peyton says, locking eyes with Lucas as he looks to her for confirmation.

His hand is shaking when she takes it in hers.

Lucas hands over his credit card and Peyton looks at him admonishingly. He waves off her concern over him paying for everything; after all, this trip was his idea. They get their room key, and the young man wishes them a nice stay, and Lucas walks directly behind Peyton as they leave the office, so the guy can't watch her walk away. She's smiling though he can't see it. She always did kind of love that jealous streak.

They walk up to their secluded little cottage, and Peyton pushes open the door open. It's really kind of perfect. A little porch with a swing and an ocean view. The living room has a large window and leather furniture, and there's a kitchen they both know they probably won't really use. The bedroom has one queen sized bed, and the bathroom has a full bathtub and shower. There's a loft area upstairs with a television and sitting area.

Peyton heads straight for the bed.

She flops down on her back and Lucas sets their bags down on the floor, then crosses his arms and leans against the door frame.

"I'm so tired," she says, closing her eyes.

"Peyton, it's 2:00, and you slept all morning in the car," he points out.

"Well, _someone_ woke me up at the _ungodly_ hour of 7:00 a.m., and then _someone_ interrupted my nap by abandoning me!" she proclaims, and he just laughs as she props herself up on her elbows.

"Admit that you're having fun," he demands playfully.

"Oh, I totally am," she readily admits. "I'm just sleep deprived, so if I'm a bitch, it's not my fault."

"Right, because your personality is so sunny the rest of the time," he mutters, looking away from her.

"Do you _like_ sleeping on the couch?" she asks with a raised brow.

"I'm sorry," he laughs. "Come on. Let's get some food."

"Not yet," she insists.

"I'm starving."

"OK," she says, "but I've been laying here on this bed for, what? 3 and a half minutes now, and you're not even making a move."

"I was...I didn't..."

"Lucas," she says softly, "come here." He takes a deep breath and pushes himself off the door frame, and she laughs a little. "Is it that torturous?"

"Hmm," he says, sitting down beside her with his arm on the other side of her body. "It might be. But not for the reason you're thinking."

"Lucas, If you don't want to do this, then..." she starts seriously before he interrupts.

"No," he breathes out, shaking his head. "I want to. Trust me. I've wanted to since...I want to."

"Since when?" she asks coyly, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him closer.

"Maybe since the beginning," he says, repeating her words from the night before.

She closes her eyes and smiles before he leans forward and presses his lips to hers gently.

"Lucas Scott, you are...when you're not busy pissing me off, you're quite the romantic," she says, making him chuckle before kissing her again.

"Need food," he mumbles, standing from the bed and reaching for her hand.

She sighs dramatically, but plants her feet on the ground anyway. She pushes him out the door, insisting that she's going to put on a bathing suit, and he just smiles as he waits for her on the porch of their little cottage.

He loves Tree Hill, and he knows she loves it, too, but neither will deny that this little getaway is exactly what they both needed.

And sure, now that they're kissing, he's pretty sure it's the best idea he's ever had.

They walk down the beach together towards the pier they can spot in the distance. She doesn't hold his hand, and he doesn't reach for hers, and maybe the beauty about this...whatever it is...is that they both realize that they don't need that. She doesn't need to be grasping onto him all the time for him to know where she stands, and he doesn't need to have his arm around her to let her know that he wants her.

She's not wearing a top. Well, she's wearing a bikini top, but not an actual shirt. He lets her walk a few paces ahead of him when they come to a narrow boardwalk over a little creek, and he notices the little dimples at the small of her back that he forgot where there. He used to love those dimples. His hands would always naturally come to rest so his fingertips would sit in those little crevices. He really really wants to do that right now.

So he places his hand at the small of her back when they're walking side-by-side again, and he rubs her smooth flesh with the tips of his fingers as he leans down to speak into her ear.

"This always drove me crazy."

She takes a deep breath, and she swears it's 100 degrees hotter in an instant.

"Stop," she whispers.

But he doesn't.

She reaches behind her and clasps her hand with his, and brings it down so their hands are joined between them as they walk. And though they each thought they didn't need that, it certainly feels nice when they finally do.

They find a little seafood restaurant, and he sips beer while she drinks a strawberry daiquiri. She eats fish and chips and steals shrimp off his plate, and when he playfully glares at her, she just raises a shoulder and looks at him innocently, and all is forgiven.

"This is crazy," she says as she laughs. "I feel like we've been gone for weeks. When really, you just kidnapped me this morning."

"You came willingly," he says, smiling at her as she rolls her eyes.

"What if I had a job?"

"Why _don't_ you have a job?" he asks.

"Because I don't know what I want to do," she says simply. "And I have some savings, and I got severance, and...I'm OK for now."

"But...what next?" he asks timidly before taking a sip of his beer.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...are you going to leave town again when you need a job?" he asks.

She wants to be mad, but she realizes that she doesn't have a reason to be. He's just asking a simple question. It's not an accusation, and he's not trying to make her feel bad for how she left the last time.

There's something in his tone that's just telling her that he doesn't want her to leave again.

"Tree Hill is home," she states. Her legs tangle with his beneath the table, and he wonders briefly if that's all the promise he needs. "I'm not leaving again."

"OK," he says with a nod, smiling at her as she sips her drink.

He doesn't need to say anything more, and neither does she.

Because he believes her.

She pays for dinner, though he glares at her and they argue while the waitress waits and laughs at their playful banter. Lucas finally gives in when Peyton runs her foot up the outside of his calf and raises an eyebrow. It's like she's asking him if he really wants to risk them _really_ arguing. He holds up his hands and Peyton smiles triumphantly as she hands over her credit card.

They stop some beer and some food for their breakfast the next day, and when they make it back to their little cottage, Lucas' phone is ringing. He answers, and talks to Haley while Peyton steps out of her shorts and walks away from him and towards the door again.

And basically, all he hears in his ear are sounds, and no real words.

"I've gotta...Haley, I have to go," he says quickly. "I'm not hanging up on you!...No. I've..." Peyton pulls her hair up messily - the way he told her in passing he liked - and she turns around and walks towards the beach. "Fuck...Hales, I'm...I'll call you tomorrow."

He hangs up and changes as quickly as he can into his board shorts.

Peyton's waiting on the porch, the late afternoon sun beating down on her already-glowing skin, when he steps outside.

"You were rude to her," she points out.

"You were teasing me!"

"Doesn't matter. That wasn't very nice," she says, trying to hide her smile.

"You can't just...you can't walk around like this and look at me like you did," he insists, shaking his head.

"Whatever," she scoffs. "I'm going swimming."

He just lets out a laugh and shakes his head. This girl is too much. And the thing is, she's just as sexy when she's not trying, as she is when she _is_ trying.

She's just always sexy.

They swim and laugh and play in the water until Peyton insists she just saw a shark. Lucas shakes his head and swears up and down there's no way she did, and she shoves him backwards and 'stomps' off towards the sand. He catches up to her and hooks his arm around her waist, making her squeal when he lifts her up and carries her.

They sit on the swing on their little porch and let themselves dry off, and she tells him that swimming in the ocean in Malibu isn't the same as swimming at the beach at 'home'. She goes on to tell him exactly why, and he teases her and asks if she ever saw a shark there. She shoves him and he reaches for her hand, intertwining their fingers and holding her hand against his thigh.

"We always end up at the beach," she says after a while.

"I guess we kind of do," he says softly.

"Today has been good, Luke," she admits, knowing he's just dying to hear her really say those words without him prompting her.

"Yeah," he says, running his thumb over her knuckles. "It has."

She lets out a content little sigh that sends a shiver down his spine. It really blows him away that they didn't speak for four years. Four years and not so much as a call or an email. He feels like they somehow haven't missed a beat. He feels like he's still the conflicted son of the town's prize jackass, and she's still the almost orphaned girl with the beautiful heart she only ever lets him see.

"OK," she says, standing from her place and stepping towards the door. "I'm going to get changed. You want a beer?"

"Yeah." He nods his head, and she winks at him, and the smile she gives him just before she steps inside has his heart racing.

He realizes that he's not repeating the mistakes he made in his youth. He's not gawking at her. OK, he's not _solely_ gawking at her. He's not making up his own idea of who she is and who she might be and who she could be to him. She is who she is, and she just seamlessly slips into his life. She fills a role that hasn't ever really been filled in his world, and he's pretty sure that has to be fate or destiny or something along those lines.

She's beautiful in all her imperfections. She's incredible and graceful in everything she does without even realizing she is. She'll go from joking about ice cream toppings to passionately arguing with him about the underlying themes of some of his favourite novels. She's hilarious and adorable, and even when she's yelling at him, he finds her the sweetest person in the world. She has a laugh she only lets him hear, and her eyes only really get those flecks of gold shining in them when she's with him.

And he thinks he's falling in love with her.

**----**

**A/N:** Just have to say...I wrote my 'leaning between the seats of the car/give Lucas the good view' scene before tonight's episode aired! I swear.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay in the update, but here it is!

**----**

She pulls on her camisole and shorts, and she realizes that she's insane. This isn't what she normally uses as pajamas. She usually wears a band tee shirt and a little pair of cotton shorts, not matching satin and lace. But if there's one thing she learned from Brooke during the entire time they were friends, it's that you 'dress for the boy you want'. Peyton laughs to herself thinking about how many times those words were spoken to her.

And then she steps out of the bedroom and catches a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, and for a reason she knows, but isn't really ready to admit, she fluffs her hair and puts on some lip gloss. It's the same reason there are condoms in her bag, and the same reason they asked for one bed.

And she's _nervous_.

She needs a beer. She reaches for two bottles and knocks the caps off before heading back outside.

Her breath catches in her throat when she sees him. He's standing with his hands planted on the railing of the porch, looking out at the ocean. The muscles of his back are painfully obvious to her, and there are contours that she wants to touch. His shorts sit low on his hips, and she really has a hard time resisting the urge to wrap her arms around him from behind. She thinks it might be OK if she did. But she won't.

"Here you go," she says, sidling up next to him and handing him one of the bottles.

"Thanks," he says softly. He's far too busy taking in the sight of her in what he would normally consider lingerie. "Wow."

"What?"

"You look...this is...it's good," he manages, smirking as he takes a sip of his beer.

"Yeah?" she asks coyly.

"Please," he scoffs. "Look at you."

"Luke," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

He rolls his eyes as she looks to the ground. He can't understand - he never could - how she never seemed to grasp just how stunning she is.

He places his hand at the small of her back and angles his body towards hers. He leans down to speak into her ear, smiling when her breathing speeds up.

"You're beautiful," he whispers before pressing a lingering kiss to her temple.

And that's the thing about Lucas. Other men would see that ensemble and use words like _sexy_ or _hot_. Lucas says _beautiful_. Lucas kisses her temple and touches her discreetly. Lucas gives her butterflies in her stomach, not just desire - though yes, she feels that, too.

"Thank you."

He winks at her and his hand falls to her waist as he pulls her closer to him. She leans into him a little bit more, and her arm makes its way around his torso, and they stand there together in the salty air, watching the tide come in as they sip their beer.

She yawns after a while, and he runs his hand up and down her side as he smiles at her.

"Today has felt like the longest day ever," she says with a chuckle.

"That's what happens when you get up before 10:00," he points out, and she glares at him.

"Whatever," she says softly. "It's not even 8:00 and I feel like I need a nap."

"The girl likes her sleep," he mutters, and she just shakes her head.

"Come on," she says, taking his hand and leading him to the door. "Sit with me."

He excuses himself and pulls on a pair of jeans, but she insists he not put on a shirt. He figures that since she's wearing what she is and he's enjoying it so much, the least he can do is give in to what she's asking.

He sits next to her on the sofa, on her left side - he's been on her right all day - and she furrows her brow as she looks at his bicep.

"Is that from...did I do that?" she asks, running her fingertips over the bruise on his arm.

"You're the only one mean enough to wail on me," he says as he laughs.

"I'm so sorry!" she says sincerely. "Luke, I'm sorry."

"Hey, I'm a big boy," he says, smirking at how cute she is when she's remorseful. "I'm sure I'll survive."

She leans over and gently presses her lips to the tender skin, then brushes her thumb back and forth over the spot a few times.

He's pretty sure he's never experienced anything quite so intimate.

She's not sure why she did it, but she realizes quickly that it doesn't matter. They're allowed to do this, especially after what they'd done earlier in the day. She almost likes that he's not all over her. She likes that they can just be together - despite the palpable sexual tension between them - without feeling like they need to kiss.

But she still really wants to.

"Tell me about L.A.," he says after a little while. They've been talking about everything and nothing in that natural way they always have.

"You've heard about it," she says, furrowing her brow. She's told him plenty of stories about her life while she was away.

"I know." He shrugs his shoulder and looks at her. "I just want to hear about you. Not the city or your job."

She realizes he wants to hear about how she felt. The things that happened and what emotional effect they had on her. Things like her promotion, hearing about Brooke, the first band she signed, her breakup with Julian. He wants to hear about it all because he wasn't there with her.

She doesn't know where to start, so she starts with the first thing that comes to mind.

"I thought about you a lot," she says, her heart racing when he smiles and closes his eyes. "I heard about school and how you were doing as a coach. Haley sent me pictures from your first title win."

"She did?" he asked.

"Yeah," she says with a smile. "You and Nathan were hugging in that goofy way you always did." They both laugh at that, knowing that all the women always found it funny. "When Brooke...I was so worried about you. I must have thought of calling you a thousand times, Luke."

"Why didn't you?" he asks timidly.

"We hadn't seen each other in a year, and I knew that you would be...I just didn't want to get in the way," she says softly.

"You wouldn't have been," he insists.

"I didn't know that," she reminds him. "And I knew that if I saw you then...I would have felt things and that would have just confused me. And you. And...neither of us could have handled that. And wow, that makes me sound selfish."

"No, it doesn't," he says, shaking his head. "Not at all. But I was worried about you."

"What?" she asks in shock. His girlfriend had just passed away and he was worried about her?

"I know you, Peyton," he says. "I always did. I knew that even though you left the way you did, and you and Brooke weren't on good terms...I knew you would be hurting." He smiles when she weaves her fingers through his as she shakes her head. "I didn't know if you had anyone to help you through it, and I..."

"What?" she asks encouragingly.

"I was always that person," he reminds her. "And I should have felt so guilty for thinking about you then."

"Lucas..."

"No," he says, shaking his head. "It's like Haley said...how can you feel guilty about having compassion for someone?"

She hadn't ever thought of it like that. That sounds pretty perfect. Leave it to Haley James Scott to give insight into everything without even knowing.

"You know, there was this little book store a couple blocks from my place," she says, pulling her legs up onto the sofa and turning her body towards him. "It reminded me of that one in Tree Hill that was always your favourite."

"I love that book store," he says fondly.

"I know you do," she says with a smile. "This place was like that but a million times less organized." They both laugh at the thought, knowing that the store in Tree Hill wasn't organized at all. "I used to go there and look through those books for hours."

"You ever buy anything?" he asks, angling his body towards her a little more, and resting his hand on her arm as it rests on the back of the sofa.

"Every time," she says softly. "I'd always buy something you said was your favourite. Ayn Rand, Shakespeare, Salinger, Steinbeck..."

She's cut off when he leans forward and presses his lips to hers. She lets out a noise, indicating her surprise, but he thinks she shouldn't be surprised at all. Her admitting what she just did is definitely the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for him. She has no idea what that means to him.

"Luke," she murmurs, placing her hand on his chest.

"I need you, Peyton."

They both know what that means. He doesn't just need her physically - though he's saying that, too. He just _needs_ her. He needs her in his life the same way she needs him. The way they've always needed each other, even when they didn't want to admit it.

And maybe he's always known that.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that again," she says softly, shaking her head gently.

He places his hand on her cheek and kisses her again, and he blindly takes the bottle from her hand and places it on the table as they stand up. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls herself against him, and when he drags his fingertips down her spine from her shoulder blades to the small of her back, she has to pull away from him to take a deep breath.

He takes advantage of her open mouth and kisses her again, letting his tongue move against hers as her fingers run through the hair at the back of his neck. He pushes her tank top up at her back as he pulls her backwards towards the bedroom. Once inside, he closes the door for no reason, and lays her down gently before taking a step back just to look at her.

Her hair is in loose curls, splayed around her, and she's smiling a genuine smile at him. Her little burgundy shorts and shirt don't quite meet in the middle, and her skin is sun-kissed from their day at the beach. She might just be the perfect woman.

"Luke," she says, pulling him from his revery. He just shakes his head, smiling at her.

"_God_, you're incredible," he says, moving to the bed and resting his weight atop her.

She places her hand on his cheek and he dips down to kiss her gently. She has to laugh when he keeps his eyes closed and shakes his head. It's almost like he can't believe she's the woman beneath him, or he's the man kissing her.

So he does it again, just to prove it's real. It's very real, he learns, and when her hands move down his body and towards the button of his jeans, he slips his hand beneath her top and his palm comes in contact with her smooth skin. She brushes her hand against him through his jeans, and she smirks deviously when he lets out a moan and drops his head to her shoulder.

He kisses that spot on her neck, just below her ear, that used to always make her fall apart, and he learns that it still does. She throws her head back, and that only seems to spur him on. She unzips his jeans and pushes the fabric as far as she can, and he stands again to let the denim pool at his feet. He hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of her little shorts, and she raises her hips to let him pull the garment down her legs.

He kisses from the inside of her left ankle to midway up her thigh, and she takes a shuddering breath as her hands feather through his hair. He pushes up her shirt just a little bit more, and places kisses to her stomach before bringing his lips to hers again. He arches into her and her knees bend a little more towards the ceiling.

And that's when she gets scared.

She and Lucas are kissing. If she's being honest with herself, they're doing a hell of a lot more than kissing, and soon, kissing will be the afterthought to what they'll be doing. He's half naked on top of her, and she's half naked beneath him, and this all feels really fucking good.

But there's a knot in her stomach that feels a lot like guilt. And she knows that because she's felt it before, as a teenager in an achingly similar scenario. The only difference now is that Brooke's not just in a little town a couple hours away.

It all feels like the same betrayal anyhow.

"I can't," she says abruptly, placing her palm on his chest.

"What?"

"I can't, Luke," she repeats. "I'm sorry. I just...I can't."

"OK," he breathes out, withdrawing his hand from beneath her shirt. "It's OK."

"No, not really," she says, smiling weekly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he insists, looking down at her sweetly and brushing the hair away from her face. "It's OK."

He moves off her gently and lays on his back next to her, but he can't will himself to move his hand from where it sits on her stomach, just below her navel. She looks like she might just cry, and he really doesn't want her to. He knows exactly what she's thinking, and he wants to tell her not to feel that way, but he doesn't want to be an insensitive cad, and he doesn't want to leave room for her to assume that he just wants to have sex with her.

He does, that's just not _all_ he wants with her. It never was.

So he lets her roll onto her side, and he pulls the blanket from where it's folded at the end of the bed, and he hears her sigh when he covers her over with the quilt. He kisses her temple gently before he pulls her close to him so her back is to his chest. He doesn't want to be detached from her, and he doesn't want her to think he's mad. He really isn't.

She can feel the steady beating of his heart against her back, and it somehow soothes her and breaks her own heart, all at the same time. She should be able to let herself be with him. She should. She shouldn't have been thinking about Brooke while she was kissing a man she's pretty sure she's in love with. Has always been in love with. Maybe will always be in love with.

And now she's afraid that she'll never really be able to be with him, because of things that are completely out of her control. Things like death and grief and an apology to her best friend that she never got to speak.

And maybe also an apology _from_ her best friend that she never got to hear.

She can feel his breathing slow down to the point where she knows he's asleep, and then a few minutes later, she carefully removes herself from his arms and heads out onto the porch

She sits in the darkness on the porch swing with a blanket from the living room wrapped around her and one knee pulled up to her chest while the other leg keeps her rocking at a steady rhythm with the waves.

When Lucas wakes up just after midnight, he's a little surprised that she's not laying next to him. He laughs softly to himself at that simple fact. It should have been the opposite. He should have been surprised if he _had_ woken up next to her. He rolls onto his back and lays there for a few moments, trying to find the right words to say to her when he steps through the bedroom door to seek her out. He's sure she hasn't gone far, and he really hopes that she hasn't left just to escape him.

He pulls on his jeans and a tee shirt, and steps through the door. It doesn't take him any time at all to see her sitting on the porch swing, wrapped in a blanket and watching the moonlight on the ocean.

"Hi," he says softly, taking the seat next to her.

"Hi," she whispers, smiling weakly.

"You OK?"

She takes his hand in hers and leans against his shoulder a little bit, and she's sure that gives him the answer to his question.

"You know the best advice I ever got?" she asks, speaking again before he has a chance to answer. "My dad told me to follow my heart."

"That's...good advice."

"It was right after the shooting, and I was so confused, you know? Everything with you, and that whole Pete thing. And then there was Jake," she explains softly. "I ended up in Savannah and I thought...I thought that was it. Jake and Jenny and...that love." She feels him tense a little at the mention of the other man, so she strokes his thumb with her own. "And then...And then I said that I loved _you_."

"You told him that you loved me?" Lucas asks doubtfully.

"In my sleep."

"Oh yeah!" he says fondly. "That's so cute that you do that."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," she laughs. "He didn't think it was cute when I said that I was in love with someone else."

"I can see why he might not," he says softly.

"So I went back to Tree Hill," she says. "And then I went to L.A., and then I came back to Tree Hill again."

"So maybe you belong there," he suggests, smiling at her when she looks at him.

"Maybe that's where my heart is," she almost whispers.

She doesn't know if he'll hear what she isn't saying. She doesn't know if he'll hear her say, _'maybe my heart is where you are.' _Or that, subconscious or not, she's always loved him, even if she couldn't say the words; even if she said the words and he heard them a different way. And then he kisses her gently on the top of her head, and she thinks he just might.

"Maybe," he says softly, resting his head against hers.

"I'm sorry about before," she says. "I..."

"You really don't have to apologize," he insists.

"I know it doesn't feel great when girls do that," she says, and they both chuckle.

"Not really, but...it's alright. I understand."

"I just started thinking about Brooke," she admits, shifting towards him a little bit.

"I kind of thought that's what happened," he says softly, looking downward.

"But you know what? I feel like...I'd still feel the same way about you if she was alive," she says, willing herself not to cry. "And I really don't think she'd be able to hold that against me."

"I don't think so either," he says, shaking his head. "I think maybe she always knew, you know? You and me."

"I think so, too," she agrees, letting the tears well in her eyes. "I think that's why she was so...OK with ending our friendship, because she was just worried about losing you. I really can't blame her for that. I left because...it was easier than losing you. I didn't want to lose you."

"You wouldn't have," he says firmly.

"No, I would have," she tells him. "You and Brooke would have been together, and you and I...we would have drifted apart. We already were."

"I don't think that's true."

"It is," she says with a smile. She adores him for thinking otherwise, but she knows she's right. "But...I think she'd be OK with us. I think she'd...if you were going to settle for someone, I'm sure she'd be OK if it was me."

"It's not settling," he says, making them both laugh. "It's really, really not."

"I'm just saying that...I'm not going to feel guilty for wanting you." She turns so she's facing him completely, and her knee rests on his thigh. "I've wanted you since I was 16, and...Brooke would be pissed if I didn't follow that now that I can."

"I think that if she had to share you with anyone, she'd be OK with sharing you with me," he says with a smirk.

She loves him. She honestly loves him more than should be allowed.

"Thank you, Lucas," she says quietly. "For understanding and..thank you."

He lets out a soft laugh, because she thinks she needs to thank him.

"You're amazing," he whispers.

She takes a deep breath and rests her chin on his shoulder. He looks down at her, and her face is a little distorted, just by their proximity, but he still feels like he wouldn't want it any other way. Her breath tickles his neck and his heart starts to race. When she places her palm on his chest, she feels that steady rhythm and looks up at him through her eyelashes.

"Let's go back to bed," she purrs.

There are few things she's ever said to him that have sounded better than that simple request. But he doesn't want to be presumptuous.

"You tired?" he asks.

"No," she says, shaking her head slightly.

"Peyton," he says as she stands and reaches for his hands, "we really don't have to."

"Lucas Scott." Her tone suggests that she's not playing around, and that she knows what she wants. And she really doesn't have to say anything other than just his name to have him leading her back into the house.

They reach the bedroom again, and Peyton pulls his shirt up over his head and drops it on the floor before letting him do the same to hers. He takes a deep breath at the sight of her, all topless and perfection. He lays her down again and pulls her shorts off the same way he did just hours earlier, and she smirks when he takes a sharp breath at the sight of her. She sits up and undoes his jeans, and he pushes her back onto the bed and kisses her.

And then it all hits him.

"We've never done this," he states, as though it's just occurring to him now.

"What?" she asks breathlessly.

"We've never...you and I," he continues. "I mean, I always dreamed about it, but..."

"You dreamed about me?" she asks with a grin, running her hands up and down his arms as he has them bracing him above either of her shoulders.

"I'm such a dork. I shouldn't have said that," he says softly, wincing and closing his eyes. She presses her lips to his gently, and he opens his eyes, feeling slightly less like a creep.

"What'd you dream about?" she inquires, her voice low and sexier than he'd ever be able to explain.

"I'm not telling you," he says, shaking his head vehemently.

She leans up, shifting beneath him and making him let out a gruff sound as she places her lips right against his ear.

"Why don't you show me?" she suggests.

They've never done this before, but somehow, it's all seamless. They just fit together, and he doesn't know why that surprises him. Everything else between them is effortless, so it shouldn't be such a shock that this is, too. She seems to fit against him perfectly, something that, in his younger days, he realizes he took for granted. Even in those few times they shared a bed, and she'd curl up into his side, he didn't really acknowledge that she was contoured perfectly for his body. He doesn't know why he never realized it before.

But maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe his naive younger self just didn't know what he held when he held her.

And now that he's holding onto her, he makes a promise never to let her go. Never to take her for granted, and never to ever let her think she's second best to anyone.

Because he's certain that he's loved her forever.


	6. Chapter 6

Lucas wakes up and he can hear two very beautiful and soothing things. He can hear the constant rolling of the waves outside their little paradise, and he can hear Peyton breathing as she lays in his arms. He quickly looks over to check the time and laughs to himself when he sees that it's after 10:00. He doesn't usually sleep so late.

But he doesn't usually spend his evenings making love to beautiful women, either.

She stirs in his arms and buries her face in his chest a little bit, holding him a little tighter before she opens her eyes and looks up at him.

"Mmm," she moans, letting out a content little sigh. "'Morning."

"'Morning," he echoes softly, running his hand up and down her bare arm.

"So?" she asks. "Better than the dream?"

"Not quite," he says, and she pulls away from her as her jaw drops. "You see, in my dream, you'd always wake up in the morning and tell me I was the best you ever had." Her scowl turns to a smile and he pulls her back towards him. "And you'd beg me to do it again."

"Wow," she murmurs. "That really _is_ a dreamworld."

"You're a mean woman," he pouts, squinting at her.

"But...you really are the best I've ever had," she says seductively, climbing onto his lap. "So please, _please_ can we do it again."

He's _this_ close to telling her he loves her.

----

She's wearing his tee shirt - just because she can, and he's not complaining - and sitting atop the counter in the kitchen, eating toast and drinking coffee while he stands across from her. He's leaning back against the cupboards with his legs crossed in front of him, and he's staring at her.

"OK, what?" she asks. "Do I have jam on my face or something?"

"No," he says with a laugh. "You're just beautiful."

"Well, that's very sweet of you to say, but my hair is a disaster and I'm not wearing makeup," she states disbelievingly.

He walks across the room and wedges himself between her legs before taking the mug from her hands and placing it on the counter next to her.

"Gorgeous," he insists seriously, kissing her gently on the lips.

"What are we going to do today?" she asks as his hands fall to her hips.

"This?" he suggests, kissing her neck.

"I don't think that counts as making the best of the summer," she says as she drapes her arms over his shoulders.

"You see, that's a matter of opinion," he states, grinning at her.

"Come on," she says, pushing him away slightly. "I'm going to put on a bathing suit and grab a couple towels, and we're going to soak up sun and swim."

"But what about all the sharks?" he teases her. She glares at him playfully and he laughs at her as she hops down off the counter.

She shoves his chest lightly and disappears into the bedroom, and he's still smiling at all that's happened in the past few days.

He realizes that he doesn't want this little trip to end. They're both soul searching, and finding each other, and falling in love, and if all this has happened in just one day, he has to wonder what else will happen if they stay away from Tree Hill and just be alone together. He doesn't really have anything to rush back to, and he knows she doesn't either. He's got plenty of cash in the bank, and he just can't see how it would be a bad idea for the two of them to just stay lost a little while longer.

He walks to the bedroom and pushes the door open, and she has her back to him, but she's not wearing a shirt.

"Luke," she whines, grabbing the tee shirt she'd been wearing and clutching it to her chest.

"You wanna make this trip a little longer?" he asks bluntly. "Like...a couple weeks longer?"

"What!?" she cries. "Luke, that's crazy! We can't just skip town and not go back for two weeks!"

She's gesturing wildly with one arm, and attempting to cover herself isn't her first priority any more, and so he's staring at the bits of skin he can see.

"Why not?" he challenges. He frowns when she pulls the tee shirt over her head again, and she glowers at him, but she's still smiling. He's the only guy who she's actually OK with ogling her.

"Because that's...crazy," she repeats, putting her hand on her hip. "First of all, Haley would kill you. Us. Whatever."

"If that's your only reason, then it's not a very good one," he says, smirking at her as he walks towards her and places his hands on her hips. "Come on. It'll be fun. We'll go to... New Orleans and Houston. We'll just tour the south. We can stop in Nashville and Memphis, and..."

"Lucas, this is _insane_. I have like...two changes of clothes," she states, shaking her head.

"We'll buy more."

"You can't...you make it sound so easy," she says, still smiling at him.

He knows she'll eventually give in. He wouldn't have asked if he didn't already know that.

"It is easy," he tells her. "Look, your dad's not coming home till the end of the summer, and Nathan and Haley are cool there without us. Why can't we just stay out here and be happy together?"

He sees her mulling it over. He can see it in her eyes. A little bit of conflict, a little bit of confusion, and a little glimmer of something that looks a lot like excitement.

"Lucas, this is crazy," she says, shaking her head.

"You keep saying that, but you're not saying no," he says.

"Being away with you sounds like...the best way to spend two weeks, but..."

"But nothing," he says, cutting her off and making her laugh. "Say yes."

"Lucas..."

"Say yes," he pleads.

"Why should I?" she asks playfully.

"Because...because I'm falling in love with you," he says softly, pulling her a little closer.

"What?" she breathes out in surprise after a moment of complete speechlessness.

There's no way he actually said those words. There's _no_ way. She's been waiting for so long - years, actually - to hear those words, and part of her can't believe he's saying them.

"You saying yes yet?" he asks confidently.

"I need you to be serious right now," she insists, looking at him imploringly. "Lucas, are you...?"

"Falling in love with you? Yes," he says, and she throws her arms around his neck and presses her lips to his.

She kisses him everywhere, and when he mumbles against her lips, asking what happened to making the most of the summer, she tells him to shut up as she pushes him back on the bed.

"Yes," she says once they're disrobed again.

And he can't see or hear or feel anything that isn't her beneath him. He has no idea what she's talking about.

"Yes what, baby?" he says breathlessly, letting his fingertips dance over her hip bone.

"Your crazy road trip," she manages, though his hand is...distracting her.

"Yeah?" he asks with a smirk, knowing that her next response will have a dual meaning.

"God, yes."

He has no idea why he didn't tell her that he's already in love with her. That maybe he's always been in love with her. But it can't hurt to just give her a little time. Sure, she took this declaration well (to say the least) but in his experience with her, the heartfelt declarations tend to scare her a little. Now, he knows she's matured and grown since then, and she certainly seems to feel the same way about him.

But he's pretty sure they have a lot of time to say those words to each other. He's not going to be without her now.

----

They leave their little cottage that evening, stopping at a roadside diner for a bite to eat somewhere between Tallahassee and the Alabama border. She tells him they need to buy a camera, and he tells her he's got one packed, and he blushes when she asks him how long he'd been planning this trip.

Peyton dials Haley's number just before it's too late to call, and Haley's giggling when she answers the phone. Peyton smiles to herself, so thrilled that her two best friends are so happy together. She wants that for herself, and when she looks over at Lucas, he winks back at her. She has to wonder if she might be closer to it than ever.

"So, where are you two?" Haley asks.

"Um...Florida?" Peyton says it like a question, hoping her tone is just cute enough that Haley won't freak out.

"Florida!? What are you doing in Florida!?"

Lucas chuckles in his seat, having heard Haley's outburst when Peyton held the phone away from her ear.

"We're on a little road trip," Peyton explains. "We're just having fun and we're not quite ready to come home yet."

"When _will_ you be ready to come home?" Haley asks, and Peyton can hear her smiling through the line.

"We aren't sure. We're just kind of..."

"Playing it by ear?" Haley suggests. "Well...What's going on with you two?"

"Um...something," Peyton says, unable to keep herself from smiling.

"There's always _something_ between you two. I want details," Haley says sternly. Peyton can hear Nathan in the background muttering something suggestive, and then she assumes Haley has hit him, since he says 'ouch' and starts whining.

"We're...it's...I don't know," Peyton says. Lucas weaves his fingers through hers, and he smiles over at her quickly before turning back to the road.

"You slept together," Haley says, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"What?!"

"You did. You _so_ did," Haley says, and Peyton hears Nathan say_ 'about fucking time'_ in the background.

"We...I'm not talking about this!" Peyton says with a laugh.

"Oh please," Haley scoffs. "You're just not used to having awesome friends who pry into your personal life."

"How _did_ I ever live without it?" Peyton says, faking sweetness.

"OK, well..._be safe_. In all interpretations of that phrase."

"Haley!" Peyton cries as she laughs.

"Call me every day," Haley demands. "Nathan says to bring him back something good."

"We will," Peyton promises.

"And...be happy, OK? You both deserve it." Her tone is sweet and caring, like it always is when she's being serious.

And that's the plan.

"Thanks," Peyton says. "OK. I'll talk to you soon."

She closes her phone and drops it back into her purse, and she looks over at Lucas.

"She freaking out?" he asks.

"She's a little surprised," Peyton says needlessly. "She told us to be happy."

"Sounds like Haley," Lucas says fondly, lifting Peyton's hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

She finds an old country western station on the radio, and they listen to Willie Nelson, and Merle Haggard, and Patsy Cline, and Loretta Lynn, and Keith Whitley songs until they hit Mobile. It's night time, and they can't really see much, and Lucas when yawns, Peyton suggests they stop for the night.

They get a room at a little hotel in the centre of town, and they open the windows wide and let the curtains blow in the night air, and Peyton curls into Lucas' side and places her hand on his chest before they turn out the lights. He - not jokingly, they're both aware - suggests they make love in every state (and who are they kidding? probably every city) they visit, and she can only shake her head. But she eventually gives in, and tells him this road trip is getting really fun. He kisses the top of her head and says goodnight before he reaches over and switches off the light.

They wake up early enough, and Peyton jokes that Lucas is making an early riser of her. They stop at little boutiques and he sits and waits while she picks out clothes to try on.

"This is so rad!" she proclaims, holding up a distressed vintage inspired Hank Williams tee shirt. "I'm getting this."

"OK, Peyton. We've been in this store for 40 minutes," Lucas groans. "I mean, I love how excited you are, but..."

"Lucas," she says, "I need clothes, and you said you didn't mind spending time shopping."

"I understand," he says, walking to her and pulling her against him. "I'd be more enthusiastic if you were shopping for underwear or something."

"Well, maybe we'll do that next," she whispers, leaning up to speak into his ear before she kisses his cheek.

She rushes off towards the register to pay for the jeans, denim shorts, dress, and two shirts she'd selected, and Lucas steps outside and waits for her. He doesn't hear her come outside, so when she wraps her arms around him from behind, he's a little surprised. He turns around and kisses her quickly before they start walking again. Peyton decides she's going to buy a new outfit in each city, so she tells him their shopping day is over. Lucas jokingly (and dramatically) sighs his relief, but his reaction isn't much of a stretch.

They have dinner at a little barbecue place, and then they walk around some more until it gets dark. The air is thick and muggy, and her tank top sticks to her skin. They just hold hands because anything else is a little uncomfortable in the heat, and when she stops in the center of town, he looks at her in complete confusion.

"What?"

"We need to go to Austin," she states, as though it's crazy she hadn't realized it before.

"OK," he says with a smile.

"Don't you want to know why?" she asks.

"Don't need to. But tell me," he says, laughing when she shakes her head.

"It's an amazing music city. I went there last year for South By Southwest. It's incredible," she says, speaking passionately.

And he wonders how she'll really live without that passion. She told him that she won't leave again, but he can't see her never speaking like that again. Tree Hill isn't exactly a hotbed of music activity. He really hopes she'll keep her promise to stay.

"OK," he says.

"Yeah? Because you're driving, and I don't want to..."

"If you want Austin, then you'll get Austin," he says, pulling her a little closer and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"You know?" she asks, leaning in so their noses brush. "You're an alright guy, Lucas."

He presses his lips to hers after letting out a laugh. "Well, maybe this trip will make you think I'm more than just alright."

"You'll have to try _realllly_ hard," she teases, slipping her hand into his as they start walking again.

"Well, then I'll try _realllly_ hard," he promises, and she just shakes her head.

The thing is? She really believes that he'll do anything she wants him to. And truthfully, she'll do the same for him.

They get back to their hotel and pack their bags after deciding that they'll head towards New Orleans the following morning. Peyton tucks her legs beneath the thin sheets on the bed, and watches Lucas pull off his tee shirt and step out of his jeans. He does this thing every night - well, the few they've spent together - where he stretches his arms over his head, stretches his neck, and takes a deep breath before getting into bed.

"Why do you do that?" she asks with a little smile.

"What?"

"That stretching thing and stuff," she specifies.

"Oh, it's nothing," he says, hoping to convince her. He knew she wouldn't believe him. "I kind of took up yoga."

"What?" she asks in shock. The only thing that puts him at ease is that she isn't laughing. "When?"

Truthfully, she thinks that probably explains a lot about him. His body has changed so much since last she saw him, and that's not really a surprise, but she'd seen a lot of men in L.A. who did yoga regularly, and they had similar structure and muscle tone.

But she still thinks Lucas looks _so_ much better than any of them.

"About a year ago," he admits, climbing into the bed next to her. "Haley thought it'd be good for my stress and stuff."

"And was it?"

"Sort of, yeah," he says. "I actually kind of like it. It's calming. Nathan started coming with me as part of his rehab."

"Oh, I bet you two get hit on all the time," Peyton laughs, and Lucas just shakes his head. She's actually right. "How come you never told me that?"

"I dunno," he says nonchalantly. "It never came up."

"It's kind of sexy," she says softly, moving a little closer to him and draping her leg over his. "I started when I moved to L.A."

"I know," he says in a low voice.

"How?"

"I just do," he says.

They both know the answer. Her body is different, and she's certainly flexible, and she can be quite calm if she wants to be. He's the same way. He wonders how they were both so angry with the universe and so unbalanced when they each had the tools to keep themselves centered. It's not lost on him that they each lost that anger and that weight when they came back into each others' lives.

"'Night, Luke," she whispers as he turns out the light.

"'Night, Peyton."

Something about falling asleep in Lucas' arms makes her feel secure, even when she's in a random hotel in a city she barely knows, wearing a tee shirt he bought that day. They're each the only people the other knows for miles - states, actually - and no one really knows where they are. But he holds her somehow gently but securely, and she swears the sound of his breathing is like a lullaby.

She's never felt anything like that, and she doesn't want him to ever stop holding her. She's pretty sure she won't have to worry about that, even though they haven't said those words and neither has mentioned forever. She can feel it somehow, and it doesn't scare her like it probably should.

----

He wakes her up early - she's actually getting used to it - and she notices that he's already dressed in clothes she didn't know he had. Then she sees a bag sitting at the end of the bed from a big sports chain.

"What's this?" she asks, sitting up in the bed.

"Put these on," he says, pulling a pair of cropped yoga pants and a workout top out of the bag.

She notices the way his thin shirt falls over his shoulders, and the way his pants fit him, and she's pretty sure she'll do anything he asks. She knows they're obviously going to do yoga somewhere, and she finds herself excited by the prospect.

She gets dressed and pulls her hair into a ponytail, and they walk to a nearby park they'd found the day before.

They spend the next hour in almost complete silence. She still finds it a little surprising that he does yoga, but she won't deny that it's sexy. She won't deny that doing yoga with him, and meditating with him sitting next to her is probably the most comfortable thing she's done in years.

She lays back on the grass once she's done her session, and he looks down at her and smiles. There's a thin layer of sweat on her sun-kissed skin, and she looks...peaceful.

"That was good," she breathes out.

"Yeah," he agrees, standing from his place and reaching for her hand. He pulls her up and she stretches her arms over her head while he looks her up and down. "Let's shower."

"Together?" she asks quietly as they start walking.

"Damn right, together," he says, and she chuckles. "I have a feeling the shower will be the best part."

"You think pretty highly of yourself, don't you?" she laughs, and he just shrugs one shoulder as he smirks at her. Truthfully, she hasn't been complaining one bit, and he'd point that out if he didn't know she was already fully aware of it.

----

They stop in Biloxi for lunch, and a couple other little towns along the way. Peyton buys the new releases at a Wal-Mart, and they listen to bands she saw in L.A. before they were signed, and she recalls details from the shows like she just saw them yesterday.

They get to New Orleans, and, like Mobile, they find a hotel first. They drop their things in their room, then head off to explore. They walk the French Quarter, and they stop for a drink at a historic little bar, just to say they had.

"Go buy something nice," he commands when they're walking past a little boutique.

"Excuse me?"

"Something nice. A dress," he elaborates. He points to a mens' store. "I'm going across the street."

"Why?" she asks, shaking her head.

"Because we're going out tonight, and we're going to have a nice dinner. It'll be our first date," he says, and they both laugh. It's kind of true, but it's really not.

"What do you want me to buy? I mean, other than a dress," she asks. He takes her hand in his and pulls her towards him, placing his free hand on her hip.

"Whatever makes you look so sexy I can't take my eyes off you," he tells her, speaking into her ear.

"Tall order," she whispers. She can hardly speak when he does that.

"Not at all," he insists, shaking his head. He smiles at her as she blushes and makes her way towards the store.

She doesn't show him the dress or tell him what it's like, and he doesn't tell her what he bought, though she assumes it's just a pair of slacks and a shirt and tie.

They head back to their hotel for a quick nap before dinner, and she falls asleep in his arms, with the curtains and windows open. She's pretty certain she loves him. She knows she loves this trip.

But she kind of misses home.

She has a dream about Tree Hill. She and Lucas are walking hand in hand along the Riverwalk in a way that they never did. They're stopping at her favourite coffee shop for cinnamon buns and iced cappuccinos before the weather turns cold. They're playing with Jamie at the River Court and then walking along the beach at night.

She misses Tree Hill.

She wants all those moments with Lucas that they never got to share together.

As much fun as she's having, she's starting to wonder if this trip is just them trying to find a place in the world that's already waiting for them in that little town they both love so much.


	7. Chapter 7

Lucas wakes up when Peyton starts kissing him.

Not at all a rude awakening, if you ask him.

"OK...that's..."

"Hi," she says, smiling down at him as she sits, straddling his lap.

"Hi." He takes a deep breath and plants his hands on her hips. "Time is it?"

He's so cute all groggy and disoriented, and she can't help but giggle at him as she looks at the clock.

"5:30."

"Reservations in an hour," he tells her, and she leans down to kiss him again, brushing against him in all the right places. "Go get ready."

"I call bathroom," she says excitedly, getting off him and grabbing the bag from the store she'd gone to that day.

He just shakes his head as she bounds off towards the bathroom door. He thinks it is adorable that she thought he'd steal the bathroom from her. He may not be the brightest guy when it comes to women, but he isn't _that_ stupid.

He stretches, looks outside, then rises from the bed and begins changing. He pulls his new clothes from the bag - just a pair of black pants, a light blue shirt, and a black tie. He realizes it's probably crazy of him to get ready so soon, since she'll probably take ages, but he fully intends on turning on the television and waiting for her, no matter how long she takes.

He knows it'll be worth it.

Peyton spends a half hour styling her hair and doing her makeup, then steps into the dress she bought. She really feels like they've been away for ages. She takes in her appearance in the mirror before her, and she sees how much lighter her hair looks, and how much darker her skin is. She notices how her eyes seem a little brighter, and her smile seems a little wider.

She's in love.

She needlessly runs her hands over her stomach, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on her dress, and takes a deep breath. She doesn't know why, but she's afraid of what his reaction will be. Since she returned to Tree Hill, Lucas has seen her in just about anything, but for some reason, it's when she's put in the effort that she's nervous.

She steps into the room to see him sitting at the end of the bed, and she immediately steals his attention from the baseball game on the television.

"Whoa," he mutters.

He stands from his place as he looks her up and down. The dark green dress is everything he could have hoped for. It hits her just above the knee, with a strapless sweetheart neckline. It's tight through the body and it's just...She's perfect.

"Amazing," he says, resting his hands on her hips and brushes his lips against hers. "You're incredible."

"Thank you," she says softly. Her heart beats against her rib cage when he brushes the hair from her face. "You look...really, really good."

"You make it so easy," he almost whispers, shaking his head. He closes his eyes and she runs her thumb over his cheekbone. She has no idea what he's saying.

"What?" she asks, looking at him quizzically.

The answer is right there on the tip of his tongue. _You make it easy to love you_. She's as graceful and elegant and beautiful as she is stubborn and hardheaded and infuriating. He adores that. He loves it all. It's all the craziness - all the intensity - that makes her so perfect for him.

"To want you," he says. He's not sure why he doesn't say what he so desperately wants to say.

She just smiles and kisses him, then takes his hand and they walk to the door.

They walk narrow streets to the French restaurant Lucas picked. He holds the door for her, and those butterflies are back. She feels like a teenager. She feels like this _is_ their first date. She feels like they didn't just leave the same hotel room after napping together, and they won't go back to that hotel room together after their evening out.

He pulls out her chair and kisses her temple before moving to his own, and she chooses the wine they'll have - a Bordeaux she claims to love. She laughs at the glare he shoots the waiter who's obviously smitten with her, and she takes Lucas' hand across the table, wordlessly reassuring him.

He realizes that he'll have to deal with that sort of thing as long as he's with her. He hopes that's a really long time.

"This is nice," she says, somewhere between the main course and dessert.

"It is nice," he agrees before taking a sip of his wine.

"Ooo. You know what place I love," she says, a glimmer of something he recognizes as excitement in her eyes. "Martino's at Wrightsville."

"Never been," he says nonchalantly, laughing when her jaw drops. She looks at him as though that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever said to her.

"I can't believe that! Best Italian food in North Carolina," she says, leaving no room for argument. "We'll go sometime."

He can't help but smile. They'll go sometime. They'll go, because they're a couple. Or they're close to a couple. They're something more than just friends. They'll go to dinners and have dates and hold hands across the table. They'll go to her house or his house afterward and spend the night together.

_Together_.

She steals bites of his cheesecake, but won't let him take bites of her chocolate mousse, and he playfully scowls at her, but they both know he's not really bothered. They finish their bottle of wine and Lucas pays the cheque, though Peyton argues with him again. He tells her he's not the kind of guy to let his girl pay for the first date, and she smiles and rolls her eyes at him.

He follows her out of the restaurant, and the whole time, he's wondering how in the hell he's found a girl so hot. Her hips sway, and there's a ringlet resting on her shoulder blade that he wants to push aside with his hand so he can kiss her bare skin like he knows she loves.

She's driving him crazy, and she has absolutely no idea.

"Come here," he says, taking her hand and pulling her towards him. His back is to the wall of a building next to the restaurant they just walked out of, and he pulls her against him.

"Lucas," she says, admonishing how brazen he's being.

There are people walking down the street and staring at them, but he doesn't seem to care. They his hands grip her hips a little tighter, and she kind of stops caring, too. He leans forward and kisses her, moving his hand up her back to tangle in her hair and pull her even closer.

"This is so crazy," he mutters, brushing his nose against hers.

"What?" she asks breathlessly, pulling away from him a bit.

"This. Us." He trails his hands down her arms and loosely grips her wrists. "Finally."

"Yeah," she says with a smile. "It's kind of hard to believe."

"Only because you're so..._you_, and I'm..."

"Stop it," she said, pulling herself from his hold and looking to the ground.

He just shakes his head and wraps his arm around her waist as they continue down the sidewalk. She tells him she wants to find a great jazz club and sip martinis and listen to music, and cuddle up to one another in a corner booth. He honestly can't find anything wrong with that picture.

They find an underground little place and when they step inside, they see that there are only about 10 other people there. Peyton looks at Lucas and wiggles her eyebrows, and he really doesn't know what that means, but he thinks it might be just the cutest thing he's ever seen.

He orders scotch, and she gets a gin martini, and they sit as close to one another as they can get. They're both buzzing from the alcohol they've had, and all she wants to do is tell him she loves him. She's toying with the fabric of his tie with one hand as she finishes her drink with the other, and before she can gather the courage to speak, he's got her hand in his and he's leading her to the dance floor.

"Luke," she hisses. "What are you doing."

"Dancing," he answers simply.

The trio starts playing an old jazz standard he's heard before, but can't name, and he holds her closely as they move together. She sighs deeply and plays with the hair at the back of his neck, and he really hopes she'll want to leave soon. It's not that he doesn't love dancing with her - he certainly enjoys the proximity, and how he can smell the subtle notes of her perfume - but she's almost too close, and she almost smells too good.

"One more drink?" she suggests as the song comes to a close. They're still dancing together, and his thumb is still caressing the skin between her thumb and forefinger.

"Sure," he says, smiling at her. The band starts in on another slow song, and Lucas merely nods to the bartender, who starts fixing two more drinks for them.

"Are you gonna let me go now?" Peyton says teasingly.

"No," he insists, shaking his head. She rolls her eyes and tries to look away, but he leans forward and kisses her.

He has no intentions of letting her go, and they both realize that his one word answer to her simple question has more than just one meaning.

She slips her hand into his as they're walking back to their hotel, and he kisses the top of her head when she rests it against his shoulder. He almost wishes they were at home in their little town, so he could show her off to people who actually know the both of them.

But he knows that being in Tree Hill will bring a whole new variable into their relationship. Gossip.

And he just doesn't think he's ready for that yet. Neither of them are.

He opens the door to their room, and she steps inside and kicks off her heels. She runs her fingers through her hair, and he's _this_ close to rushing towards her and peeling her out of that dress. As much as he loves it, he knows he loves what's underneath more.

"That was a really good date," she says, smiling as she tugs his tie to bring him closer to her.

"Oh, it's not over," he growls right before he kisses her.

Best first date ever.

----

The following evening, after a long, hot, tiring day of walking through New Orleans, Peyton wakes Lucas up at midnight, claiming they need to do laundry.

And there's the rude awakening.

"What?" he asks gruffly. "Laundry?"

"Yeah. Laundromats are the best at night," she explains, getting up from the bed and tossing their dirty clothes into the laundry bag in their hotel room.

"I don't want to."

"Stop being a baby and get up," she demands, putting her hand on her hip.

"It's late. I want to sleep," he says, rolling onto his side and pulling the covers up to his chin.

"Lucas, come on. It'll be fun!" She sits next to him on the bed and feathers her fingers through his hair, with just soothes him and makes him take a deep breath. She knows he'll go to sleep any minute.

"No."

"OK. Well, I'll just go alone then," she says with a shrug and a devious smile. "I'll be back in a bit."

And her little ploy has the desired effect.

He sits up in bed and lets out a groan before running his hand over his face. There's no way he's going to let her go anywhere alone at this late hour.

"Well played," he grumbles.

She leans over and kisses him before he stands and reaches for his sweats and a tee shirt. He notices she's already dressed, and she smirks at him when he looks her up and down and glares at her. He really, really hates this. He really, really loves sleep.

But he takes the bag of their things from her and slings it over his shoulder as they start out of their room and down the hall. They walk the few blocks to a 24 hour laundromat, and Peyton begins moving around like a pro. Lucas takes a seat in the chair across from where she's standing, slouching like he's more exhausted than he's ever been.

"You know, I've never actually used a laundromat before?" Lucas asks as Peyton sorts their darks and lights.

She stops what she's doing immediately, and looks at him with a blank expression on her face. "You've _never_ used a laundromat?"

"No," he says with a shrug. "Mom always did my laundry. Then our house at school had a machine, then I moved back to Tree Hill and mom gave me the house."

"Weird."

"Why is that weird?" he asks, standing again and moving towards her.

"Because you're 23, and you've never used a laundromat!" she says with a laugh. "You're so sheltered in your small town."

"Hey," he says, pointing at her as he squints. "I love that small town."

"Aww," she says softly, wrapping her arms around his torso and pulling him close. "I know you do." She leans forward and kisses him gently. "But it's still weird."

She goes back to the task at hand, and Lucas goes back to his seat, and he knows he should be helping her instead of just sitting there, but...well, she's the one who woke him up, and she's the one with all the energy. He wishes he was still sleeping.

She knows this is the segue she needs. This is the moment to bring up going home soon. She's afraid to do it, and she's afraid of what he'll say, but she wants to let him know what she's thinking.

"So...speaking of that little town," she says softly, turning so she's looking at him. "When do you want to go back?"

"I dunno," he mumbles, shrugging his shoulder. "Haven't really thought about it."

She tilts her head to the side and looks at him imploringly, and they both know she's caught him in a lie.

"I'm...this week has been amazing, but we can't just...stay away," she rationalizes.

"Can't we?" he challenges.

"OK," she says, moving to sit next to him. "I was under the impression that this was an impulsive road trip, and that we'd kind of play it by ear. Now I'm starting to think you're running."

"Running?" he asks incredulously.

"Don't you miss it? Sleeping in your own bed and playing ball on the River Court? Your family?" she inquires with a soft smile, letting her hand fall to his thigh.

"Of course," he says, placing his hand over hers. "I just want it to be you and I for a while."

"That's...very sweet," she says, and he smiles. "But we'll be together in Tree Hill, too."

He knows he needs to tell her the real reason he wants to stay gone. He needs to tell her that he's afraid that little town will tear them apart if they aren't strong enough to fight back against everything that's going to come at them.

"It'll be too hard," he tells her. "It'll be...it'll be really hard."

She almost can't believe what she's hearing. He's told her he's falling in love with her, and now he's telling her it's too hard to be together? They've had these amazing days together, and had great conversation. They've found each other again.

But there's a little voice in the back of her head that's telling her she should have seen it coming. She should have known it wouldn't all be so simple.

And she's pissed off.

"What? So out here where it's easy, you want to be with me, but when we get home, you're not sure?" she asks. She's well aware she's putting words in his mouth and exaggerating. But really, isn't that how most arguments go?

"I didn't say that! I just don't think you understand what it's going to be like," Lucas says, trying to be rational.

"I..."

"You were her best friend, and I was her boyfriend," he reminds her needlessly. Of course, this is about Brooke. "Not to mention, this is all a little familiar."

"Are you seriously bringing that up right now?" she asks irately. She moves away from him a little more before standing and taking a step back. "I can't believe you'd compare _high_ _school_ to this!"

"Peyton, it's a small town. Everyone knows about our past," he tells her. He realizes it probably wasn't the smartest thing to say when she narrows her eyes at him and shakes her head.

"Well then what are we doing?" She raises her shoulders and drops them dramatically, and he can see the tears in her eyes.

And he hates himself for that.

"You don't understand what I'm saying," he says calmly, standing and taking her hands in his. "I just wanted us to be...stronger when we go back, because it's not going to be easy."

"I didn't expect it to be easy. I don't," she assures him. "I just...I love you, Lucas."

Her voice is soft and a tear has fallen, and he wastes no time moving towards her and wrapping his arms around her.

He's been wanting to say it, and wanting to hear it, since the first day of their little trip.

Or - as they've kept saying - maybe since the beginning.

He kisses her before she can move away from him, or take the words back, and he thinks they've just had the stupidest argument in the history of arguments. They both want the same thing. They want to be together. It shouldn't matter where they are or who's talking about them. It _doesn't_ matter.

And he finds it hilarious and somehow so very fitting that their first I love you's are being said in the middle of the night, in the middle of an empty laundromat, in the middle of New Orleans.

"I love you, too," he says softly, tucking a curl behind her ear. She shakes her head like she doesn't believe him, or like she wants to argue. "Peyton, I love you. I do. I don't care where we are. I lo..."

He's cut off when she presses her lips to his again and she snakes her arms around his torso. He's not so tired anymore, but they're definitely not in the right place to do what he now really wants to do.

And his own words are ringing in his ears. He doesn't care where they are. He really doesn't. Why should he? He's a grown man, and it's been three years since Brooke died. And really? It's none of anyone's business anyway. Just because it's a small town and everyone likes to think they know him, that doesn't mean they're entitled to have an opinion on his love life.

"Let's go home," he says once they've parted again. "Tomorrow. We'll drive back."

"Lucas, I didn't mean..."

"No, you're right," he insists. "You're right. I was scared of what would happen when we went back, but...I dunno." He shrugs his shoulder and smiles at her, knowing she'll understand his next statement. "It's not so scary anymore."

"I missed you," she whispers after kissing him softly again.

He knows, somehow, that she feels like he's himself again. He's shed that dark weight and hurt, and he's the boy - now man - she fell in love with when they were still kids. He's caring and gentle. He treats her well and does what's best for her, and he looks out for her and takes care of her. He smiles more, and his eyes sparkle a little bit.

He's Lucas again. He's _her_ Lucas again.

He kind of missed that, too.

"I missed you," he echoes. He wipes the tears from her cheeks and they smile at each other.

And he really has no clue how he waited that long to tell her; how he didn't tell her when he was 16 and feeling that love for the first time.

He supposes that just wasn't their journey.

Sure, this journey has been filled with heartache and pain and longing and just raw _hurt_, but it's theirs. It's theirs, and it's what they needed to bring them back together, and so he'll take it. He'll take the years of uncertainty and anger, because they give him Peyton.

As she sits next to him and they wait for their laundry, she rests her head on his shoulder and weaves her fingers through his. He realizes that maybe she's all he really ever wanted anyway.

----

"Lucas," Peyton sings, trying to wake him up.

She's opened the blinds just a crack, and so there is just a sliver of light coming into the room. It's nearly noon, and she'd had the foresight to call and request a late checkout. She'd woken up in a panic at 7:00 a.m., and called the front desk. When she and Lucas got back after their trip to the laundromat they didn't exactly go to sleep right away. It was closing in on 4:00 a.m. when they finally succumbed to slumber.

And now, it seems Lucas is dead to the world.

"Lucas," she tries again.

"Hmph."

"Luke, wake up." she pleads, tracing the line of his jaw with her knuckle.

"Tired."

"I know, but we need to check out in an hour," she explains, smiling at him when he finally opens his eyes.

"You're killing me," he groans. "You kept me up too late."

"Honey, you weren't complaining," she says seductively, reminding him of facts he's already very aware of.

"I want coffee," he says, pouting like a little boy in a way she won't deny is just adorable.

"The sooner you get up, the sooner we get coffee," she tells him, rolling away from him.

She sets her feet on the floor, stands, and stretches her arms over her head.

He's wide awake now.

It was a mean trick. She's a tease, but he kind of likes it. If she stands like that, all naked with glowing, radiant skin, and perfect body, and starts walking away from him, he'll certainly get out of bed and follow her.

"You're playing dirty, Sawyer," he grumbles, throwing back the sheets.

She disappears into the bathroom and closes the door, and she laughs when he pushes the door open and scowls at her. She turns on the water for a shower, and she really wants to tell him they can't get caught up with each other or they'll be in trouble with the front desk, but then he kisses that spot on her neck and his fingertips dance along her bare skin, and she's already falling again.

----

"That was the best omelet I've ever had," Peyton insists, taking a sip from a chipped mug at a little diner just outside New Orleans.

"Clearly, you haven't tasted mine yet," Lucas says confidently, resting his elbows on the table.

"Well, maybe you can cook for me one morning," she murmurs, leaning over the table and pressing her lips to his.

The waitress clears her throat and throws Peyton an admonishing glare as she sets their bill on the table, then winks at Lucas before she walks away.

Peyton doesn't like that one bit. Lucas can't say he hates the irritated and, dare he say, possessive, look on her face.

"Calm down," he tells her, and she opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off. "We're leaving in five minutes, Peyton. Don't start a brawl."

"I should kick her ass," she grumbles, looking in the direction of the other woman again.

"If you're going to fight someone, could you pick someone young and hot, not someone...old and...her." He chuckles when Peyton's eyes go wide and her jaw drops. "What?"

"Be nice."

"30 seconds ago, you were about to give her a black eye!" he reminds her, dropping his credit card onto the table.

"Whatever," she scoffs, though they both know he's right. "Can we go?"

"Have to pay first."

"Or...we could not," she says softly, her eyes shining and a devious smirk on her lips.

"No," he says firmly. "No way."

"Come on! What's life without a little _danger_?" she taunts him, reaching for her purse and slinging it over her arm.

"I'm not getting arrested in Louisiana just because you want a little excitement," he says with a chuckle. "Go. I'll be out in a minute. I mean, unless you want to make sure I don't run off with Betsy, the sexy waitress."

"OK, ew," she groans as she stands from her place.

"Yeah, I know," he says with a laugh, scrunching his face. "I kinda grossed myself out with that one."

"Serves you right," she states.

She sees the waitress walking back towards the table, so Peyton leans down, rests her hand on the side of Lucas' face, and kisses him far more passionately than she ever should in a public place. Lucas moans from low in his throat, and his hand clumsily finds her upper arm. He knows they're at a run down diner, and there are people watching, but he doesn't know much more than that. He's pretty much dead to anything that isn't this beautiful girl who seems so insistent on proving her point.

Peyton pulls away when they're both breathless, and she sees the satisfied - albeit confused - look on her boyfriend's face. She moves her lips to his ear, gently nibbling his earlobe before she speaks seductively.

"I don't think you'll be running off with her."

Good Lord, he loves her.

She chuckles and pats his cheek gently as he takes a deep breath, and then he turns to watch her walk out of the diner and to the car. He draws stares and glares from the other patrons of the restaurant, and all he can really do is smile gently.

The waitress regards him with icy composure as she hands him back his card and receipt, but for good measure, he leaves her a large tip. He gets a nod from a guy about his age as he walks towards the door, and he knows the other man is showing his appreciation that Lucas is with the beautiful girl who just put on that little show.

He almost can't believe it himself.

He gets outside to where Peyton's standing with a roadmap spread out on the hood of his car. Her faded jeans and black halter top don't quite meet in the middle, and her hair is haphazardly swept up, a few loose pieces falling onto her back.

He walks up behind her and puts his hands on her hips as he presses his chest to her back, startling her momentarily until she realizes it's him. She relaxes into him a little bit, and he places a few kisses to her neck and shoulder.

"You have _no_ idea how fucking sexy you are," he states. Her only response is a throaty moan, and a little disappointed whine when he stops pressing his lips to her skin.

"Hey, Luke?" She turns in his arms, and wraps hers around his torso.

"Hmm?" he manages, though his eyes are fixed solely on her lips.

"Let's go home."

He smiles, nods his head, and kisses her gently before opening the car door for her.

Going home with her now somehow seems like the most brilliant thing she's ever suggested.

She's clicking through her iPod for 'the perfect music', as she's done just about every time they get in the car, and when she settles on Marc Broussard - a Louisiana native, as she tells Lucas - and they listen to a song called _Home_ as they pull onto the highway.

"Hey, Peyt?" Lucas takes his eyes off the road momentarily when she looks over at him. "We're gonna be OK. You and me."

She weaves her fingers through his and leans over to kiss his cheek.

"I know we are," she whispers, kicking off her flip flops and setting her feet on the dash.

He really can't remember what he was so scared about. He loves this girl, and she loves him back, and nothing else in the world is bigger than that.

She's got her eyes closed when he says those three words, and she smiles, but doesn't look over at him when she says them back. He squeezes her hand and flips his sunglasses down over his eyes. With his hand on the wheel and his girl by his side, it all seems pretty simple.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** The next chapter will be the epilogue.

**----**

They stop in a few cities on the way, spending a few hours here and there, getting food or seeing sights.

They stretch their legs in Jackson, and Peyton names a handful of songs with the city's name in the song lyrics, searching for them on her iPod so he can listen. He laughs at her enthusiasm and kisses her and tells her that he loves that she can relate everything back to music.

They decide not to tell Nathan and Haley that they're on their way home, instead, choosing to make it a surprise. They'll go to the other Scott household first thing when they arrive back in Tree Hill, and spend time with those three very important people that they've missed so much.

"Why didn't you come to Honey Grove?" Lucas asks, somewhere in Mississippi. They've just pulled back onto the road after stopping for sweet tea at a little café in a little town that somehow reminded them of their own.

"Texas? Where are you getting Texas right now, babe?" she asks with a laugh.

His heart races when she uses that little term of endearment.

"Just curious. Road trip trivia, I guess," he says, shrugging his shoulder. "Why didn't you?"

"Because...you guys didn't need me," she reminds him. "You and Brooke were together, and she wasn't speaking to me. Nathan and Haley were together, and then Skills went."

"Well, I'm sure he would have appreciated having another single there," Lucas points out.

"He would have hit on me," she laughs.

"He would not have!"

"Yes, he would have," she insists. "He and Bevin had just broken up. He told me a few weeks ago that he totally would have made a move."

"He did not," Lucas scoffed.

"Luke, I wouldn't lie," she promises.

"You and Skills," he says, shaking his head. "No."

"I could see it," she says jokingly. She squeezes his hand when he scowls, then she leans over and tells him she loves only him, and he's forgotten what he was even upset about.

"I just can't believe he'd ever hit on my girl," Lucas says disbelievingly.

"I wasn't your girl then!"

"You were always my girl," he says softly, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at her.

"Luke..."

"He knew that," he presses on. "I used to talk about you so much."

"Stop it," she whines.

"You were always the...the beautiful cheerleader," he says. "I never thought I had a shot."

"You did. I mean, once I knew who you were." They both laugh at that, because it's entirely true.

"Yeah, but then I messed it up," he reminds her needlessly.

"Hey," she admonishes, "we both messed it up. In a big way."

"I just...couldn't stay away from you," he tells her, stroking her thumb with his own. "I still can't."

"And now you don't have to," she says sweetly, smiling at him when he looks at her.

He almost can't believe it.

----

They stop overnight in Nashville, and they go to 3rd and Lindsley to watch a few country acts take the stage. Peyton insists they have to if they're going to Nashville, and by this point, they've both discovered that he'll kind of let her do whatever she wants.

She leans over when the lyrics of a song remind her of him, and when she whispers that in his ear, he turns his head so he can kiss her. She murmurs that she loves him when a slow love song starts, and she literally feels the chill run down his spine.

"Lucas," she whispers.

That was probably the sexiest thing she's ever experienced.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize," she says, resting her hand on his shoulder and shaking her head. "Just say it back."

"What? That I love you?" he says with a smile.

"Mmm," she moans. "Yeah. That." She leans forward to speak into his ear again. "Let's get out of here."

Lucas likes Nashville.

It brings out her accent, and a bit of whiskey has her smiling and slipping her arm around his waist a little tighter than she normally would. She, surprisingly, knows a lot of country music. She - in a very sexy way - recites what she calls the best lyrics to the best songs as they stroll back to their hotel. Everything from Willie Nelson and Kris Kristofferson, to Brad Paisley and Keith Urban.

They sprung for a room with a king sized bed, just because this is the last night of their trip, and they'll be home tomorrow.

It's late. It's probably 2:00 a.m., and she's in his arms in just his tee shirt. She feels him tense next to her, so she asks him what's wrong. Even the soothing tone of her voice is almost enough to make him feel better.

"Peyton, tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow is a whole night away," she tells him, stroking his cheek with her hand as they lay in bed in the darkness of their hotel room.

"Kind of deep," he says, and she lets out a soft laugh. "You're right. I'm just...I guess I just love you."

"That all?" she teases, pulling away from him slightly. She smiles at him, and he trails his hand down her free arm to rest atop her hand as it sits between them on the bed.

"That's it."

"Lucas, I want you to stop worrying about it," she says pleadingly. "There's nothing we can do to stop what people think, and there's nothing anyone can say that'll keep me from being with you. So..."

She's cut off when he sits up and presses his lips to hers.

She just said everything he needed to hear.

----

They wake up early. Far too early given how late they stayed up the night before.

But they have a 10 hour drive ahead of them, and they're both a little anxious to get home. He wants to sleep in his own bed, and she wants the comfort that little town brings that she somehow - she really doesn't know how - lived without for four years.

They stop for breakfast at a diner, like they've been getting so used to doing, and Peyton orders a dish of ice cream to go. Both Lucas and the waitress look at her like she's crazy, and she just shrugs her shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. She tells Lucas that it's better than coffee sometimes to get you going in the morning.

They're in the car and they've just pulled onto the interstate when Lucas looks over at Peyton spooning ice cream into her mouth.

"You totally want some now, don't you?" she asks with a cheeky smile.

"Well, you make eating ice cream look so _damn_ good," he says, and she scoffs and rolls her eyes.

"Here," she says, reaching over with her spoon and letting him have a taste. "Good?"

"Better than coffee," he says before he's swallowed, and she shoves his arm, reprimanding him for his lack of manners. "We need music."

"Oh!" she says, surprised she hadn't already done something about it. She reaches for an unmarked CD in his glove compartment. She'd seen it there a couple days earlier, but hadn't mentioned it.

"What's that?" he asks, furrowing his brow in curiosity.

"I don't know. It's in your car," she says with a laugh.

She slips the CD into the player, and they listen as the first song starts. It's a pretty piano melody, and when Peyton looks over, she sees a smile spread across Lucas' face.

"Who is this?" she asks.

"Guess."

"I don't know," she says, shaking her head.

She's never heard it before. It's amazing. The recording is a little rough around the edges, so she knows it's not a major release. There's something oddly familiar about it.

She realizes why, when she hears Haley James Scott start to sing.

"Are you kidding me?" she asks excitedly. "This is amazing!"

"I know," he says.

"Is this whole CD her?" she asks.

Her ice cream is melting. She's so enthusiastic about Haley's music, and she's completely enamored with the song that's playing, and she's forgotten all about the treat in her hand.

"Yeah. It's just a bunch of stuff she's written. I have a couple more CDs at the house, too," Lucas explains.

"Are you serious? She's written that many songs," she asks.

"Probably more," he says.

She lets out a quick breath and shakes her head, and goes back to eating her ice cream as she listens to the lyrics and the layering of the song her friend has written. It's good. It's _really_ damn good, actually. The next one is an up-tempo number that Peyton immediately starts tapping her foot to. She hears the poetry within the lyrics, and she actually sees the goosebumps form on her arm.

He understands how impressive that is, and he understands that Peyton is really into music, but it's not until about six songs into that CD that he's let in on why she's making such a big deal about it all.

"I'm going to make a record with Haley." She says it like it's her life's greatest revelation. Like it's something so obvious, but somehow so hidden, that she's just come upon it and realized it's her calling.

In truth, that's exactly what happened.

"What?" he asks with a smile.

"I'm going to put out her record. I don't know how, exactly, but I'm going to do it," she states.

"You think she'll go for it?" he asks.

"I'll talk her into it," she says. Her tone suggests there's no room for argument, and he just smiles again.

"You should do it."

"God, I could...I mean, if I can do this, then maybe I could...I could start my own label, Lucas," she says, almost in awe. "I could find a couple artists and...This could be my job."

He doesn't know what to say. He knows she'll understand that he supports her no matter what, and anything he can think to say seems like an understatement. He just takes her hand in his and kisses her knuckles, and he nods his head at her.

She doesn't need him to say anything for her to know he thinks it's a great idea.

She says thank you.

She's not really sure why, but he says it back.

----

They stop for food just inside the North Carolina border, and somehow, they both feel a little bit of calm come over them. Something about being in their home state is making them feel like they left for silly reasons. When Peyton tells him that, she worries that he'll be insulted, but he's really not. He feels the same way. He tells her he wouldn't take back their days away for anything; he wouldn't take back falling in love with her in different states in the Southern US for anything.

"You know what's crazy? Now we have all these memories in all these places," she says. As soon as she's said the words, she feels they sound silly. "I just mean...if we were ever to break up, you wouldn't be able to escape me."

"Well, you're right," he says, taking her hand across the table. "But we're not going to break up, and I don't want to escape you."

"Good."

"Yeah?" he asks with a smile.

"Uh huh," she says. She scribbles her name on the credit card slip the waitress gave her, then she looks across the table at him.

He's really the most handsome man she's ever seen. Especially now that his skin is bronzed and his hair is just a little lighter, bleached by the sun. His head is down as he looks to his phone, returning a text from a friend. She watches how his hands move, and takes in the subtleties about him.

"Hey Luke?" she says softly. He looks up at her and she smiles when their eyes lock. "Take me home."

"Oh, you have no idea how many times I wished for you to say those words," he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Well, Romeo, I didn't mean it like that," she says as they stand from the booth they've been sitting in. She wraps her arms around him and speaks right next to his ear. "This time."

He lets out a breath and kisses her wherever his lips fall, and she giggles.

Peyton. Giggling. He has to smile at that.

They're in - literally - the home stretch now.

He should have known Peyton would fall asleep.

It's almost immediately after they're back on the road, and he turns to her to mention something about a town they're passing through, and she's out like a light. He just reaches over and brushes a lock of hair from her face, and he goes back to focusing on the road.

He's almost positive that every moment of his life has led to this one, right here. All the uncertainty and the running. The sadness and almost unbearable pain that he's felt in his short time, has led him here, with Peyton. She's perfect, and he always wanted her. Some part of him always wanted her, and now he has her. It's so close to unbelievable that he almost _wants_ people to start talking about them, just to prove it's true.

It's an interesting feeling, he thinks, to just _know_. He knows he'll marry her at some point in the coming years. She'll move into his house with him. They'll have babies. They'll grow old together, surrounded by family and friends.

And nothing about that is scary. If it happened tomorrow, he'd be just fine with it.

He pulls up in front of her father's house, and he gently nudges her awake.

"Baby, we're home," he says softly.

"Hmm." She looks outside and sees where they are, and she turns back to him. "What are you doing?" she asks, her voice thick with sleep.

"We're...I thought you might want some time alone," he says softly, unable to look at her. All he wants is to be with her, but he doesn't want to just assume that she'll want to spend her every waking - and hell, not waking - moment with him.

"I want time with you," she insists. "Always." He looks over at her and smiles weakly. "I don't even know how to sleep without you now."

He's about to make a joke about her sleeping in the car without him so much as touching her, but he can't do it. She's just said a perfect phrase, and he won't ruin the moment.

He puts the car in gear and drives through the quiet streets to his house. He cuts the engine and they sit there for a moment in silence, holding hands and looking straight ahead.

But nothing will change. They won't let it. They're together, and they love each other, and this has been too long a time coming for any gossip or town rumor mill to break them up. Anyone who tells them their relationship is wrong obviously doesn't know them at all, and those opinions just don't mean much to either of them.

They leave their bags in the car. It's later than they thought it would be when they got home - thanks to a few extra stops along the way - and all they want to do is sleep, then see everyone tomorrow.

As soon as they're through his bedroom door, Peyton pulls her tee shirt over her head and steps out of her jeans. She discards the rest of what she's wearing, and she ignores the look on Lucas' face and climbs into bed while he pulls off his own shirt and jeans.

"I could get used to that," he says softly as he pulls her into his arms. "You're so incredibly beautiful."

"Luke."

"What?" he asks, running his hand up and down her arm. "I'm just telling you."

"OK," she says.

She's asleep moments later, and Lucas stays awake for a bit, wondering how this is really the first time she's ever slept in his bed. Sure, they had that one summer together, and they spent nights at each others' houses. She'd fall asleep atop his covers, and he wouldn't have the heart to wake her, or he'd fall asleep at her house, and they'd wake up - not touching - in the same bed.

This is different. She's laying naked next to him, and her hand is on his chest. She murmurs incoherent things every so often, and she'll still be there in the morning. She won't apologize like she used to do that summer. She'll probably steal one of his shirts to wear, and he'll make breakfast, and then they'll get dressed (eventually) and spend the day together.

He realizes that it's the first time she's sleeping in his bed, but it for damn sure won't be the last.

----

The next day, they decide to just walk around town and see who they need to see. They won't hide.

They stop in at the café to see his mom, and she hugs them both, immediately able to tell that they're together, before either of them has said a word. She says she's happy for them, though they probably could have assumed that. Karen had told each of them - separately - that she'd always thought there was a little bit more between them than they were letting on.

That maybe there _should_ be more to them.

They sip coffee and talk about the things they saw and did on their little trip, and Karen laughs when Lucas explains that Peyton's a little crazy. Peyton says that Lucas just needs to let go every once in a while. Karen tells them that she knew that about each of them.

Just before noon, they leave the café, and start walking through town towards Nathan and Haley's neighbourhood. They see a couple girls they went to high school with, and they can see those girls stare and chatter as Lucas and Peyton pass. She just squeezes his hand a little harder, and he kisses her temple, and that's that. They don't really care about anything else.

Haley just about knocks Peyton over as she rushes forward to hug Lucas. They're standing in the foyer of Nathan and Haley's home, and they all laugh at how excited Haley is to have her friends back. Nathan hugs Peyton, then his brother, and he tells them they better have brought presents after they so unceremoniously skipped town. Jamie runs in from outside and hugs his aunt and uncle.

Peyton sets the bag of silly little trinkets and tee shirts and souvenirs on the table, and Nathan and Jamie enthusiastically dig through, looking for - and fighting over - the coolest things. Once they've turned more serious, Jamie heads to the living room to play video games while the adults sip sweet tea in the kitchen.

"So, I have some interesting news," Nathan says, turning to his brother. "And a proposition for you."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Lucas asks.

"Well, it turns out that the guy who's been coaching the Ravens for the last four years is taking a college position," Nathan explains. "The athletic department asked if I wanted the head coaching job."

"What?!" Peyton asks excitedly. "That's amazing!"

"Nathan, that's...You're taking it, right?" Lucas asks seriously.

"Well, I told them I'd take the job on one condition," Nathan says with a smile. "That you'd be my assistant coach. What do you say?"

"I say hell yes!" Lucas says, shaking his brother's hand.

Peyton leans over and kisses his cheek, and Haley just smiles from her place. First of all, she knew Lucas would say yes. Second of all, she's so thrilled that Nathan is still able to find love in that game. Third of all, she's so damn happy that Lucas and Peyton are together.

"While we're talking about news," Lucas says, looking at Peyton pointedly, "I think Peyton might just have a little of her own."

"Well, now my news kind of depends on you, Haley James Scott," Peyton says, turning to her friend.

"OK?" Haley draws out in confusion, glancing at a smiling Lucas and a puzzled Nathan.

"I'm thinking that you and I should make a record together," Peyton says. "A real, properly produced, bust your ass in the studio and make dreams come true, record."

"What?" Haley asks in shock. "You can't be serious. I'm..."

"A brilliant singer, and an incredible songwriter," Peyton finishes.

"Hales, you should do it," Nathan says after a moment, breaking the silence in which Haley was obviously stunned.

"I'm...I'm a teacher, not a musician."

"Oh, please," Lucas scoffs. "Haley, that's not true. Come on. At least think about it."

Haley heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes, but nodded her head. "I'll think about it."

They regale their friends with tales of their trip, telling about sights they saw and people they met and things they did. When Nathan asks how they actually got together, Peyton says that Lucas pulled her out of the car and kissed her, and Nathan nods appreciatively. They don't make mention of those serious conversations they had in cottages, on porches, in hotel rooms and laundromats. It's all implied that, while things progressed quickly, they didn't rush anything.

That night after dinner and a couple glasses of wine, Lucas and Peyton are walking down the driveway and towards the sidewalk, and Haley rushes out the door and calls after them.

"Hey, Peyton!" she shouts. "Let's make a record!"

Peyton runs back to the house so fast, both Lucas and Nathan are laughing. The women embrace, and Lucas has to smile.

This feels a lot like a new beginning.

As they're walking back to Lucas' house, he wraps his arm around Peyton's shoulder and pulls her as close as he can.

"Good day," she says contentedly.

"Really good day," he agrees.

"Being in Tree Hill with you is just as nice as being anywhere else with you," she says with a smile.

He kisses the top of her head and smiles. "I think it might be nicer."

"Yeah?" She looks up at him, and she almost takes his breath away.

"Feels a little bit more like home with you here," he says softly.

"How do you always know what to say?" she asks as they walk up the steps to his house.

"It's a gift," he says with a shrug.

She swats his chest playfully but he reaches for her wrist and pulls her towards him so she crashes against him. He leans down and kisses her almost before she expects it, and he pushes the door open without looking, then kicks it closed behind them.

"Lucas," she whispers, pulling away when he pushes up her tee shirt.

"Tree Hill is the only place we haven't made love," he tells her, almost whining, she notes.

"What if I say no?" she asks with a cheeky smile.

"Can you?" he challenges, pulling her against him again.

She just takes a deep breath and bites back a moan, shakes her head and kisses him again.

She doesn't know how it's possible that they've never made love in Tree Hill.

She's pretty damn thrilled that that's about to change.

"Luke," she says afterward as they lay in the darkness.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too," he says softly, kissing her hair. "I always will."

"Promise?" she requests playfully.

"I promise."

She believes him. She really does.

That's why she's not surprised the only a couple weeks later when he spontaneously asks her if she wants to move in with him.

She says yes.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Here it is; the epilogue. Thanks so much for reading. This story totally took on a mind of its own, so I'm glad you guys enjoyed it.

**----**

"OK, so...here's the thing," she says, walking into the bedroom where Lucas has been writing for what seems like the last day and a half.

They've been busy. It's been seven months since their little trip, and it seems that every day, they find something else that trip did for them.

It brought them together. It's where they fell in love. It gave them countless memories. It tanned their skin. It put a lot of miles on that old car of his. It inspired him to start writing a new novel. It gave them a lot of framed photos to place in their house.

It made them realize that they didn't need anything but each other.

And yet, she's still terrified.

"What's up?" he asks absently, his fingers still feverishly typing away on something she can only assume is brilliant.

"I'm pregnant," she states.

Even she's afraid of how steady her voice is as she says those two words that change both their lives.

There are two rings on her finger that he put there only two months ago, and while it may have seemed fast to anyone who doesn't know them, those who do, know that there's nothing to worry about. They're just getting a jump start on the inevitable.

There's a ring on his finger that somehow feels like the most natural thing he's ever worn, but he's in awe of every day. He's married. To Peyton Sawyer. 

_Peyton Scott_.

It was a fairly spontaneous proposal. She came home one night after a rough day of trying to hustle bands and organize schedules for Tric, and he already had dinner on the go. He had cleaned the entire house that day, just because he couldn't write after a lackluster practice with the team, and she started tearing up when she walked through the door.

He'd asked her what was wrong, and she told him nothing was. She said he'd saved her day, just like he'd saved her year, and maybe her life a time or two, and he smiled and kissed her.

And then he realized that he needed to make her his wife. It wasn't that he didn't already know he would, it was just that it struck him in that moment that he _needed_ it to happen.

Since their return to town, they'd had only minimal criticism, and all from people who didn't really matter. Their closest family and friends were all thrilled, and they knew a wedding was in the future.

The future was then. He wasn't going to wait any longer.

When Peyton went to the bathroom to pull up her hair and remove her makeup, Lucas went to his bedroom and reached for that ring from its place in his drawer. She met him in the bedroom, and he was simply holding that diamond between his thumb and index finger, and he asked her if she'd marry him. It was simple. He knew she'd say yes, and she knew she'd say yes.

But she still cried.

The wedding was planned in a hurry, just because they wanted to get married right away. It was a small affair with simple flowers (Peyton carried white lilies and one red gerbera daisy), a simple white dress, a black suit, and a justice of the peace. They had a small dinner and cocktails at Tric after the ceremony on that old riverbed so very close to where they first met.

"You're...you're what?" he asks, finally looking up at her.

There's a timid, terrified smile on her face, and he's immediately in love with that expression.

But...did he just hear her right? His legs won't move, and he thinks he's smiling, too, but he's not really sure.

"I'm having a baby. I'm having _your_ baby. _We're_ having a baby," she says. She's all flustered, and it's just adorable.

God, _she's having his baby_.

"Really?" he asks, his voice caught in his throat as he stands from his place.

She just nods her head and he pulls her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest. He feels a couple of her tears seep through his shirt, and he pulls away, just so he can kiss her. He knows they're happy tears, but he doesn't care. He just needs to feel her.

She's the mother of his child.

And that sounds pretty damn amazing.

"How are you feeling? Are you OK? Do you need anything?" he asks as he moves to the bed, holding her hand and pulling her with him so they can sit down next to one another.

"I need you to tell me that this is OK," she says with a smile. She's fairly certain his reaction is a good one, but she just needs that confirmation.

"OK?" he asks, wide eyed. "Peyton, this is...amazing." She closes her eyes and lets out a sigh of relief. "I'm so...so..."

"Amazed?" she asks, laughing through the tears that are welling in her eyes again. "I know it's early. It's _too_ early, and we're _so_ young, and we're barely even married, but..."

He cuts her off with a kiss that's somehow soft, but filled with just about every reassurance she needs.

"I love you," he says, resting his forehead against hers.

"Yeah?" As soon as she's said the word, she lets out a soft laugh, and Lucas wipes her tears.

She knows he loves her, of course. And maybe they're young, but they're stable and each earning a little bit of money. She's managing Tric while she and Haley put the finishing touches on that record, and Lucas earns enough to support them with his coaching job. Their house is paid off - a gift from Karen to Lucas that Peyton reaps the benefits of.

"Tell me everything," he says.

She goes on to tell him about how she found out - a routine visit that brought forth the surprise revelation. She's four weeks along, according to the doctor, which is quite early, and she probably would have found out soon anyway, even if she hadn't gone to that appointment. She tells him she hasn't had any morning sickness or any other symptoms, really, but the doctor assured her that was all likely to come soon.

"I'm kind of scared, Luke," she says after an hour of conversation.

They're sitting back against the headboard, and she's tucked into his side, toying with one of the buttons on his shirt, and he just lets out a breath and kisses the top of her head.

"You don't need to be scared," he promises. "This is you and me. We can handle this."

"You think?"

"Babe, I know," he whispers. He's still in awe of this miracle, and he's certain she knows that. "We're going to have the best baby."

"Better than Jamie?" she asks. He can hear her smiling, and he loves that.

"A little," he says, and she laughs. They both love that little boy so much that it's hard to believe anyone could be better than him.

But they also both know that they'll think their baby is better than any other child in the universe, no matter what.

He rests his hand over her stomach, and she places her hand over his.

Neither of them says anything. They just sit there in the silence of their bedroom, each of them just happy that the other is happy.

There's been a lot of that going around for the past eight months or so.

----

The pregnancy has gone smoothly.

Peyton's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She's read countless pregnancy books and convinced herself that she's going to develop some strange condition, or that the baby will be born with a tail or a sixth toe.

She doesn't appreciate when Lucas just laughs off her concerns.

Three days away from her due date, she's laying in bed with her laptop perched on a little tray in front of her. She's got a cup of herbal tea at the bedside, and a little bar of chocolate just waiting to be opened.

"18 pounds!" she shouts.

Lucas, banished to the kitchen because he was 'breathing weird', just hangs his head and lets out a sigh. What the hell is she talking about now?

"Hmm?" he asks gently, appearing in the doorway.

"This woman in Virginia had an 18 pound baby," she says, her eyes wide.

"Are you Googling? You're Googling, aren't you?" he asks, squinting at her for doing the very thing he made her promise not to do when he brought over her computer. Lucas has tried to keep her away from Google as much as possible.

"18 pounds. I'm going to have an 18 pound baby. Probably bigger," she starts, ignoring his question.

"That's absurd," he says gently, somehow not patronizing her. "You're like, the tiniest pregnant woman ever. There's no way our baby is going to be 18 pounds."

"But..."

"But nothing," he says, walking over and closing her computer as he sits down next to her. "Remember last week at our appointment? They said he's 7 or so pounds. Which is perfectly normal."

"A lot can happen in a week," she argues.

"11 pounds can't," he laughs. He raises one eyebrow and she smiles and rolls her eyes.

OK, so he's right.

He's always right.

"OK," she says softly. "And don't say 'he'. We don't know if it's a he."

"I didn't want to say 'it'," he tells her.

He's been yelled at for that before.

"Thank you," she says with a smile. "I want to kiss you, but it's hard to move."

He just laughs and shakes his head, and closes the distance between them to press his lips to hers. He rests his hand on her stomach just in time to feel the baby kick. It's not the first time that's happened. Peyton insists their baby just loves his or her daddy already.

"I have to run out for a bit. You OK here?" he asks, pulling her laptop away from her and tucking it under his arm.

"I'll be fine," she says. "Where are you going?"

"We're out of that yogurt you love, and you said you wanted ice cream sandwiches, so I thought I'd grab some of those," he tells her, walking across the room and setting her computer on the desk. He gives her a pointed look and raises one eyebrow at her. "Do _not_ Google."

"I promise," she says with a smile. "Hey, can you get some blueberries? I really feel like blueberry pancakes."

"Sure," he says softly. "I'll be an hour. No longer."

"OK. Love you."

"Love you, too," he echoes.

He's gone no longer than an hour.

Of course, it's during that hour that Peyton goes into labour.

Sawyer Penelope Scott is born 13 hours later. No tail. Ten toes. Ten fingers. Blonde hair, and her daddy's blue eyes. She comes out screaming, and calms down immediately after she's placed in her mother's arms. Both Lucas and Peyton cry as their daughter squirms and wiggles and bats her little fists.

"She's so amazing," Peyton whispers in awe. "She looks like me."

"She does," Lucas agrees. "Lucky girl."

He rests his forehead against his wife's and kisses her before they both go back to looking at their amazing little girl.

"I love you," he whispers.

Peyton isn't sure who he's talking to, and when she says it back, she's not sure who she's talking to, either.

It doesn't really matter.

----

"Honey, someone wants her daddy," Peyton says, walking into the bedroom to find Lucas typing away at his desk.

He's working on his second novel, getting daily calls from his editor, and trying to meet his deadline. He's got a practice in an hour and a half, and a meeting with the athletic department that evening.

But he'll drop everything when he hears that phrase.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Lucas asks, standing from his place and taking his two-and-a-half-year-old daughter from his wife's arms. She curls against his chest and rests her head on his shoulder.

To say she's a daddy's girl would be an understatement.

"I'm sleepy," she says simply.

"Sleepy?" he asks, throwing Peyton a wink as she stands in the door, watching the scene unfold. She's got one hand resting over her heart as she often does when she watches Lucas with their daughter. "Why don't you have a nap?"

"I want to nap with you," she says. "_And_ mommy."

"Sawyer, daddy has some work to do," Peyton says gently, running her hand over her daughter's hair.

"Nope. I'm all done," he says. It's a lie, and Peyton can tell, but she doesn't say a word. "And I was just going to come and ask if you wanted to have a nap with me."

"You were?" Sawyer asks with wide eyes.

"Yup," he promises.

He walks over to the bed and sets her on her feet on the mattress, and she quickly lays down in the middle of the bed, smiling at her parents. Lucas drapes his arm around Peyton's shoulder and kisses her temple before she moves to her side of the bed. Lucas reaches for a blanket from the chest in the corner of the room, and he drapes it over his wife and daughter before he lays down. He and Peyton are facing each other, with Sawyer on her back between them. Their hands rest on each other's hips.

They've got this down to a science. Sawyer often makes this request. Neither Peyton nor Lucas can say they hate it.

"Mommy?" Sawyer asks, turning to Peyton.

"Yeah?"

"How come Jamie has a brother but I don't?" the girl asks innocently.

Lucas looks over at his wife and smiles, and she thinks that maybe it's that very moment that they decide to have another baby.

They've talked about it a few times, but they never put a timeline on it. It was always just one of those things that they both knew would happen. Maybe when Sawyer was three. That was the number they'd tentatively thrown out there.

Now that Peyton owns her own label - with both Haley, and another singer/songwriter signed and releasing new albums later in the year - they're even more financially stable than ever. Lucas' novel sold better than anyone expected, and he's still got his job with Nathan at the high school. They're doing well. They're growing up, and their marriage is amazing.

Maybe it's the perfect timing for a second baby.

"Well, maybe you'll get a brother or sister soon," Peyton says, as diplomatically as possible.

"I could have a sister?" Sawyer asks excitedly. "I want one of those!"

"Baby, you can't pick," Lucas says with a chuckle.

"Oh," Sawyer says, her nose crinkled in confusion. "Well, a brother or a sister." She looks up at her daddy, big blue eyes pleading. "'Kay?"

"We'll see what we can do," Lucas says, winking at Peyton. "Nap time."

Lucas watches as his girls close their eyes, and he smiles to himself.

Peyton is an amazing mother. He'd known she would be, though she had her doubts while she was pregnant. She's an absolute natural, and every time a new situation arises that they've never encountered, she takes it all in stride. Every scraped knee or playground disagreement. Temper tantrums and fears and tears over things that are silly to anyone over the age of five, but to Sawyer are too much to handle without her mommy. Peyton loves it all. She loves being a mother, and that's no secret to anyone.

And she's still so damn sexy that Lucas can hardly believe it.

"Daddy?" Sawyer asks after a few minutes, though her eyes are still closed.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"Do you love mommy?" she inquires.

Lucas looks over at Peyton, and she opens her eyes to look at him, and they share one of those secret smiles like they've been doing for years and years. They can have a silent conversation without anyone else knowing.

"Of course, I do," Lucas answers, his eyes locked with his wife's.

"Good," the little girl says sleepily. "Me too."

Peyton's heart melts in her chest.

----

Lucas takes Peyton's hand as she exits the store they've stopped at. Lucas was pumping gas while she went inside to pay and to pick up some snacks. They kiss outside the car - that same old Mustang Lucas has had since he was 17 - before she walks around to the passenger side.

"Mom!" Sawyer shouts as Lucas and Peyton climb into the car. "Matt just spit in my drink!"

"Matthew Scott," Peyton says in her stern, motherly tone; the one that's only used for discipline. "That's disgusting."

"I wanted a drink," he says innocently.

"How about some manners?" Lucas suggests. "Here, Sawyer. Take this one."

Lucas looks in the rear view mirror as he passes the unopened bottle of water back to his daughter, and he sees her stick her tongue out at her younger brother. She looks back just in time to see her father watching, and he just winks at her.

Matt had that one coming.

"So, you wanna tell us where we're going?" Sawyer asks.

She thought it was weird when her mom and dad came into her room the night before and told her to pack a week's worth of clothes into a bag, and grab whatever else she needed. Of course, that included a stack of books and her iPod. She was told she wasn't allowed to bring her cell phone, which she wasn't too thrilled about.

When she saw that they were taking her dad's Mustang instead of the family SUV, she was even more confused.

Now that they've been driving for hours and hours, and she still has no clue what's going on, she's getting a little freaked out. She figures, though, that if they were going to send her to a boarding school to start her freshman year, they might have told her that ahead of time, and she'd probably need more than just a week's worth of clothes.

"Yeah," Matt echoes.

Sawyer rolls her eyes and Matt hits her arm. Peyton turns around when she hears her daughter say 'ow'.

"Seriously, you two. If you don't stop fighting..."

As soon as Sawyer hit 10, and Matt was six, she started to think that maybe having a younger sibling wasn't all it was cracked up to be. He got into her things, and he was always following her around. He'd hog the TV and watch stupid shows, and if you asked her, he always seemed to get his way.

That last one, of course, wasn't true. She still felt like it sometimes, though.

Now that he's the 10-year-old, and she's 14, they get along only marginally better. They do a lot together, actually. They play basketball for hours at the River Court with their cousins, and they often now agree on what to watch on television - something Peyton is infinitely grateful for.

But they're siblings, so they still have their squabbles.

"What?" Matt asks obliviously.

"Your father will be mad," Peyton says, avoiding making a real threat that they probably would all know would never be carried out.

"Where are we going?" Sawyer asks again.

"Florida," Lucas finally answers. Peyton smiles at him and rests her left hand on his shoulder like she usually does when they drive together.

"Daytona!?" Sawyer asks excitedly.

"No!" Lucas answers quickly. "You're _never_ going to Daytona."

"Maybe when I'm older, for spring break or something," the young girl suggests.

"No," he repeats.

Sawyer knows better than to argue with her father when his tone is stern like that.

"So, where?" Matt asks.

"There's this little beach," Peyton starts. "And there are cottages you can rent there, and you have your own private little house, and you can lay on the sand all day."

"Awesome," Sawyer says with a smile. "But why?"

"Just...family vacation," Peyton says.

"Why there, though?" Matt asks. "How come we can't go to...to Texas or Mississippi or...what's that other one?"

"You mean, any of the other 48 states?" Sawyer asks sarcastically.

Yeah, she definitely inherited a lot from her mother.

"We're going because before your mother and I were married, we took a trip sort of like this one, in this car, and we stayed in one of those little cottages," Lucas explains. "And since we've been married for close to 15 years, but we can't escape you goofballs, you're coming with us."

"That's kind of cool," Sawyer says softly. "Wait. Is this the trip uncle Nathan was telling me about where you went all over the place?"

"That's the one," Peyton laughs.

"And you weren't even 'together' when you left, but you came back a couple?" the girl continues.

"Yes," Lucas says simply. They'll let their daughter think their relationship was just that simple for the time being. She knows who Brooke is, and why her middle name is what it is, but she doesn't know much more than that. "And if you don't stop arguing, we'll leave you at a seedy gas station in the middle of nowhere, and we'll think about picking you up on our way back through Georgia in a week."

Peyton starts laughing hysterically, leaving their two kids completely confused. Sure, their dad is funny sometimes, but they don't really see what's so hilarious about that. Sawyer and Matt just look at each other and shrug their shoulders, then Sawyer goes back to listening to her music, and Matt goes back to playing his video game.

"You're a jerk," Peyton says once the kids are preoccupied again.

"Better than what you called me 15 years ago," Lucas mumbles.

"I still don't know what you were thinking," she says. He turns to her momentarily and shakes his head.

"I was thinking that you sleep like a corpse, and I'd probably be OK to run into a convenience store for two minutes," he says with a laugh. Peyton swats his arm as her jaw drops.

"No arguing, you two," Sawyer says jokingly, making Matt laugh.

"Watch it, little girl," Peyton warns, though there's a smile on her face as she says the words.

Lucas just shakes his head at the lot of them and turns up the radio a little bit. Sawyer pulls out her earphones and listens to the oldies station that plays as they drive along that beach side road. Peyton holds Lucas' hand on the gearshift like she did all those years ago, and when he pulls over, she looks at him questioningly.

Then she looks outside.

She just smiles at him and shakes her head.

"Keep it PG this time," she whispers in his ear.

It's the place where he first kissed her on that trip, and Lucas tells the kids to run ahead to the beach, and that he and Peyton will be there in a minute.

"Lucas Scott, how did you remember this exact spot?" she asks, leaning up against the car.

"I remember everything, babe," he insists. She can't really argue with that.

He steps in front of her and rests one hand on her hip, kissing her lazily as the sun beats down on them. He slips his hand beneath the cotton of the top she wears, and she pushes him away slightly.

"Luke, the kids are right there," she reminds him breathlessly.

"They're fine. They're not even paying attention," he says, leaning down to kiss her again. "If she tries to drown him, I'm sure he'll call for us."

"Lucas!" Peyton squeals. She swats at his chest, but he wraps his fingers around her wrist gently, then intertwines their fingers as he kisses her again.

She has to let him. She really can't resist it.

"Ugh," Matt groans, looking over to where his parents are. "They're so gross."

Their mom and dad aren't exactly subtle. Come to think of it, neither are Nathan and Haley. Sure, they keep things fairly low-key, but every once in a while, Sawyer or Matt will walk into the kitchen and see their mom and dad laughing and kissing.

Sawyer used to think it was disgusting. She didn't want to see that, and she certainly didn't want to know that her parents kissed in the _kitchen_, of all places. But as she gets older, it bothers her less and less. She actually kind of hopes she'll have that kind of relationship someday.

"They're not gross," Sawyer says with a smile, draping her arm around her little brother's shoulder. "They're just in love."

_**-Fin-**_


End file.
